


We Grow Fonder, Still

by mintyworks



Series: We Grow Fonder [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Backstory, Body Appreciation, Bullying, Chubby Jesse McCree, Chubby McCree, Deadlock Gang, Deadlock Jesse McCree, Evil Science, Fanart, Feeding, Food, Food Kink, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, Kidnapping, Love, M/M, More plot, Mystery, Original Character - Freeform, Part 2, Past Jesse McCree, Reaper - Freeform, Sequel, Slow Burn, Some Sex, Stuffing, Troubled pasts, Vomiting, We grow fonder, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, Young Jesse McCree, flash backs, hanzo shimada - Freeform, lots of bad guys, r76, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-02 09:23:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 54,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14541645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintyworks/pseuds/mintyworks
Summary: Part two of We Grow FonderJesse and Hanzo continue to allow their relationship (and their waistbands) to grow, though they face new challenges, a new mystery, and a new daunting mission. Jack Morrison is somehow involved with the catastrophe that takes place, and he delves into his past to uncover buried desires and a new kink. Anything in the name of love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is ! Part II! More stuffing, more plot, more growing, and more love from our boys Jesse McCree and Hanzo Shimada!  
> With some r76 romance on the side ;)  
> Updates multiple times a week, chapter 2 coming soon.

This is PART II of [We Grow Fonder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414799/chapters/33292572)

While reading the first part is not necessary for the enjoyment of this story, it will help understand some story and characterization elements. For a summary of "We Grow Fonder" Part I, see notes at the end of this chapter. Thanks for Reading!

* * *

 

        Jack had been driving for hours, and not another car was in sight. Good.

        The snow fell gently on the car’s front shield, which would shift energy waves to remove the particles before it obstructed his view. The sight was calming for Jack, watching as beams of soft blue light would ripple across his view every so often. It was almost hypnotizing, sending him deep into his thoughts. That wasn’t difficult to do these days, he had a lot on his mind.

        Since Overwatch’s compromised mission three months ago, he had been hunting the ghost who had manipulated his team into collecting information and ignoring threats. Jack still didn’t know why the Reaper had to go through all that trouble, but McCree and that Shimada-guy had paid the price. Worst of all, Dr. Wight’s partner, Patricia Forga, had a new leg and felt it her duty to talk to the press. Jack had spent hours trying to convince her not to make herself a target, but once again, Overwatch was the subject of conversation and controversy. It wasn’t too bad, nothing like what Reyes had done to tear down Blackwatch, but still they didn’t need that shit. Miss Forga did her best to paint Overwatch as the heroes of the situation, but people weren’t dumb. They asked why it took so long for them to do anything, and how they could have been compromised for so long without noticing.

        Winston did not take too kindly to the insinuation that Athena was rusty, and the code was filled with gaps. Whoever was behind the hacking had to be an expert. Above an expert – a master.

        But, while Jack had the team looking into it, he was off alone, speeding down the road, searching for the familiar road sign. He remembered it so vividly, thirty miles into the wilderness from Watchpoint: Moosonee, Canada. Moosonee was a small town located on a river (predictably ‘Moose River’) that lead into Hannah Bay. It was remote, overcast, and cold. Not the best place to get a tan, but one of the best places for a remote Overwatch base, however small and insignificant. Jack didn’t mind the cold. It got plenty cold in Indiana, and harshly so. He always loved winters more than summers, anyway. Of course, he remembered this as he sat comfortable in the warm car; hell, his _ass_ even had a heater.

        It was coming up, he knew, so he slowed down from his breakneck speed and spun around the winding road. He saw it, it was still there. That animal crossing road sign that was a little bent and scuffed and had a bullet hole straight through it. He smirked and shook his head, pulling over to the side of the road as he took the time to study it, and remember.

        Jack grabbed his rifle and pulled up the hood of one of his jackets – this one lined with thick synthetic furs. He got out of his car and brushed a hand across the sign. He didn’t have a lot of time. It was starting to snow a bit harder now, and he didn’t want his car to get buried. He crunched into the heavy snow as he walked off road, disappearing into the thick trees. It was deathly silent outside. Only the whispers of the wind rattled his ears. No birds. No rustling. Nothing.

        Jack had to trudge through and break a path, but it wasn’t long before he found some relief as the ground gave way from the snow, and in the center of a wide circle of untouched land, was a small one room cabin. It was good to know the thermal generator was still keeping the area warm enough to prevent snow from burying it, especially in December, and especially since it had been years since he had last been here.

        He pushed to the cabin door and used a key to unlock it. No electronics out here, save for the generator. No one around for miles. Slipping inside the cabin caused his heart to tighten, and his throat close up like it was choking on ash. Everything was still here just as they had left it. A small desk was immediately to his left, a fireplace in front of him. The small cot was next to the fireplace on the left, unmade still. The kitchen and a small table was to his right. Jack stomped out his boots on the doormat and moved to the fireplace. He set it up with logs and tossed a match in. He’d be here for a bit at least.

        Jack relaxed, taking off his gloves and brushing his fingertips along the wooden surface of the desk, picking up old notebooks and flipping them open. Journals. He’d forgotten how much _he_ liked to write, always guarding them from Jack. Jack would never dare read them. Even now. Even after all that had happened. Even if he so badly wanted to hear the poetry of his thoughts again. Nonetheless he took them and shoved them into his jacket pockets. His hand glided over the back of the chair, along the window sill. Jack sat on the bed and picked up the pillow, bringing it to his face to smell. It was musty and old – too much to hope that it would still hold his scent.

        He moved to the fireplace and sat on the plush bear rug, rubbing his hands and warming his stiff fingers. He closed his eyes. He thought coming here would help. He thought it would be cathartic, for his nightmares were becoming monstrous, and the pain only worsening with time.

        _You’re not going to shoot me, Jack_.

        Jack shuttered at the thought and closed his eyes tighter, his face dipping into his chilled palms, before gliding over his grey thinning hair.

        “Why?” he choked out. “Even after all that had happened, you would still meet me here. You were on the run, but you were never too far away. It was your plan all along. Get us searching the world when you were so near. You must have understood… damn it, why didn’t you understand I was trying to protect Overwatch. I was trying to protect _you_.”

        Jack felt a hand slip to his shoulder and squeeze. Jack was up to his feet in a moment, his rifle swinging around to point at the visage of his former friend.

        His former lover.

        “Hello, _Jack._ ”

        His once warm voice now breathed ice into Jack’s veins.

 

_Two Weeks Later…_

 

        “Damn it,” Jesse McCree growled, slamming the side of his closed fist into the vending machine and pressing his face against the glass. He just wanted some Cheese Bites. That’s all he wanted. But _no_. The mechanism had frozen, and the little green light kept blinking.

         Blink.

         Blink.

_Blink_.

         Taunting him.

         That tiny bag of snacks was supposed to be the one thing that cheered him up today. Hanzo had gone off on some business, and that had been two weeks ago. He didn’t know what for, no matter how many times he had asked. He missed him terribly. That was not the worst part about that though. Jack was the only one who knew about their relationship and after he had confessed to having been in love with Reyes, warned them that a disclosed relationship might not be the healthiest thing for Overwatch at the moment. Jesse didn’t understand that logic, anymore than when Athena had recited Article 1 section III of the code. Nonetheless, the information resonated with Hanzo, and he wanted to keep them a secret. It was more difficult when he wasn’t around.

         What could Jesse have said? If he told anyone it could devastate the trust between Hanzo and him. But at the same time, Jesse wasn’t great at pretending. Not this type of pretending. Not the painful kind. The kind that ripped your heart out knowing the truth of something when no one else did. He’d been in this situation one too many times. Always running, always hiding, from someone, from something, from himself. Maybe at thirty-seven years old he was finally getting to the point in his life where he was tired.

         Jesse McCree, Too Fucking Tired.

        Especially now. He jammed his thumb into the buttons over and over again, kicked the machine, shook it, screamed curse words at it, anything he could do to get his damn crispy cracker Cheese Bites! But, it was also cathartic in a way. Jesse had a lot of frustrations to unleash recently, and this vending machine was getting the brunt of it.

        “Need help?” a soft, familiar voice asked. For a moment, Jesse thought it was Hanzo, but he glanced over to see that it was his younger brother Genji.

        Jesse calmed down immediately as Genji padded over, his thin short stature carried gracefully with every footfall, and he could not help but grow endeared to it. Genji had changed since Blackwatch disbanded, but that wasn’t so much of a complaint as an observation. He was balanced. He was at peace. Jesse sure envied that, and as much as his boyfriend denied it, he knew that Hanzo did too. Hell, everyone might have.

        “Cheese Bites got stuck. Don’t wanna try and reach in and get my arm stuck either.”

        “Why? It was hilarious the last time,” Genji chuckled before squatting down and snaking his small arm through the gap. Jesse didn’t know how, but Genji always fit in places that one didn’t think possible. Slender fingers wriggled around, and he snatched the bag of Cheese Bites from the second to last row, and even managed to grab the second one it had been caught on. Snacks in hand, he offered them both to Jesse.

        Jesse gave him a cool smile. “Thanks, Genji, I owe ya one.”

        “Then I will collect on the debt now,” Genji said plainly. “Walk with me.”

        “Well, all right then,” Jesse replied, following him down the hall. He used his teeth to try and pry open the bag of Cheese Bites, but even that wasn’t working. With a calm hand Genji took the bag, opened it, and returned it. Jesse smirked.

        “I’m a mess today,” Jesse chuckled.  

        “Things around here have been tense,” Genji admitted.

        “Yeah, since Jack returned yesterday, he’s been barking at everyone. Hanzo’s gone. No word on where Reaper is, or where Dr. Wight is. Leads are cold, weather is cold, everyone is miserable out here at Watchpoint: Moosonee.”

        “I feel fine,” Genji said. “I am happy to be here with my brother, you, Lúcio, Jack, Ziegler, Reinhardt, and Lena, though I am not immune to my observations.”

        “The others got the long straw though, sticking to Gibraltar, its still in the sixties out there in December. Here it’s gotta be in the negatives,” Jesse complained. “Also, I noticed the only one you didn’t call by their first named was Angela.”

        Jesse followed Genji into a small space set aside for him. It looked like it used to be an old office, but he had placed some mats down to turn it into a retreat, or some place to meditate by the looks of it. There wasn’t anything in the room, just mats, and a few paintings. Jesse didn’t know much about what Genji did with his free time, or what he had learned in Nepal, and he was too intimidated to ask. Maybe he’d gather the courage to, eventually.

        Genji lowered himself into a cross-legged pose, and Jesse carefully lowered his bulk down to the ground. He’d put on a little more weight since arriving here, and his belly rested comfortably, contained though bulging against his shirt and hoodie jacket. Jesse struggled to cross his legs but managed. He’d lost some flexibility when his thighs got thicker too. Genji smiled at him, bright eyes beaming in contrast to his scarred face. His hair was green these days, though Jesse only knew it as being black. Hanzo said it was a normal thing for him.

        “Dr. Ziegler is someone I deeply respect,” Genji said simply. “But, I do address her as Angela in person.”

        “If I remember correctly, you did a lot more than respect her, back in the day,” Jesse chuckled but he noticed Genji’s frown. “Sorry, that was a joke.”

        “There were rumors about it, yes, perhaps they were true. But, things have changed, as all things do.”

        “Why’d it change? If you don’ mind me asking?”

        “We wanted different things,” Genji said. “I suppose I was not looking for anything long term, she was not looking to waste time. Our fire burned bright and hot, but there is nothing one can do to keep a fire growing in a room with no oxygen.”

        “Hmm,” Jesse murmured, almost similar to how Hanzo always did. A mannerism he hadn’t noticed he’d pick up, but Genji no doubt did.

        “You sound like my brother,” he said immediately. “Spending a lot of time with him, yes?”

        “Yeah,” Jesse relaxed his shoulders, wondering about his posture or if Genji expected him to do something in the room. “We’re pretty great friends, especially since we had that mission together.”

        “‘Friends’ are not all you two are.”

        Jesse froze and stared at him, trying to decide if he should keep the secret or spill his guts. Genji seemed to know, with authority in his tone now. Maybe Hanzo told him. Or maybe it was a guess hoping to lead Jesse down a path of false security. Genji was direct but he wasn’t mischievous, not with friends. Or maybe, Jesse hadn’t been hiding it all that well. He was running out of time to answer, so he poured some Cheese Bites into his hand and shoved them in his mouth, mushing the delicious cracker squares into soft pulp.

        Genji released a quiet chuckle. “I can tell simply by the weight you have put on. I am not sure if he told you anything about his past, but I am not unaware of his proclivities.”

        Jessed swallowed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, looking down at the bag half full of cracker treats.

        “Yeah, he told me some,” Jesse replied around his food. “But, I guess I didn’t put it together that’d you’d know,” Jesse said. “Hanzo told me not to tell anyone. Seein’ how you already know, maybe there ain’t no harm in it.”

        “Discretion is Hanzo’s default,” Genji agreed. “But, first, I want to talk about you.”

        “Me?”

        “Yes. I want to make sure that you feel healthy and safe with what you’re doing, and I do not want you to stumble into anything irreversible. I have known you for a long time and it surprised me that you would be attracted, not only to my brother, but to his tastes as well.”

        “Believe me, you are not the only one surprised here. Sure, yeah, I slept around in my youth, but I didn’ have any girlfriends for a reason. And Hanzo, well, he has a way about him. A smile that lights up the darkest corners of a room and scares off the monsters. I know you know the monsters I’m talkin’ about. He makes me feel safe, and loved, and coveted. And I love my body too. He loves it. Hanzo takes care of me, and I like being taken care of. You’d probably know a little bit of that feelin’, what with you being a little brother an’ all.”

        Genji’s expressionless face somehow became unreadable, and Jesse realized just how similar the two brothers were.

        “I know nothing of the feeling,” Genji admitted. “Hanzo received most of the attention, and I took the blame for his mistakes more often than not. My own reputation fed into its believability. In exchange, I had freedom and could take care of myself. Hanzo was burdened with the being the arbiter of the Shimada name, and always had someone to watch over him. While I did not exactly envy those ties as he envied my freedom, I wish that for once, he had been a brother to me like I was a brother to him. Only after my death did I see the truth of his love and guilt. If only he were able to show it when it counted.”

        “It’s gotta still count. You both got a second chance,” Jesse whispered gently.

        “I simply want you to be prepared for the day when Hanzo rejects it,” Genji said.

        Jesse instantly frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

        “Hanzo no doubt loves you. His heart carries the weight of many. But, Hanzo serves himself first. He may give you the first bite, but he will never go hungry… and he is a man dictated by his hunger.”

        “You sayin’…” Jesse tapered off, feeling a bit of anger rise in him. “You sayin’ I’m not going to be enough for him?”

        “Nothing, or no one, will ever be enough,” Genji said softly.

* * *

 

We Grow Fonder Part I Summary

Jesse and Hanzo Shimada set up in a hotel to surveil and collect information on a facility conducting experiments using bio-mechanical nano bot technology to augment the human body without the use of prosthetic limbs. During their time together, Jesse begins to notice some of Hanzo's interests, one dominant among them. He enjoys watching Jesse eat - he enjoys it a bit too much in fact, and Jesse battles with his growing attraction for the man he is sharing company with. When Hanzo confesses a part of his past, involving a young lover named Kaito, who he used to share his feeding kink with. After explaining to Jesse about his food kink and attraction for feeding, Jesse's crush on Hanzo grows stronger, and Hanzo insists on cooking every meal. Jesse begins to put on weight, and as their relationship escalates, so does the severity in the information they're gathering from the facility they are spying on.

The research at the facility is being funded by the Wight &; Forga Group, an once anti-omnic foundation. Jesse and Hanzo discover that Dr. Wight is personally involved, and has kidnapped a woman to use for their experiments. When Hanzo wants to save her, Jesse insists that their orders are not to blow their cover. Hanzo is troubled by the fact that they are not doing anything to help the situation, but becomes embroiled in his growing love and fondness for Jesse. When they are forced to witness the experiment gone awry, Hanzo questions whether or not their relationship is getting in the way of their sense of good, and he rushes off without Jesse into action. Jesse tries to follow, but is stopped by Jack, who informs him that their mission correspondences have been hacked and manipulated for the past two months by an unknown entity. They breach the facility together in search of Hanzo.

When Hanzo confronts Dr. Wight about releasing the woman he tortured, Jesse and Jack catch up. They are interrupted by the smoke and horror of Reaper himself, who is uncooperative with revealing the reasons behind his manipulation of Jesse and Hanzo's mission. He kidnaps Dr. Wight, and disappears.

Hanzo and Jesse share a pensive moment, wondering if their shared kink and love had gotten in the way of them realizing they were being manipulated. Hanzo realizes that without Jesse, he would never come to realize his moral obligations, and together, they had made each other stronger and better than before. However, Jack erupts between their precious moment to share annoying old man stories about his love life.

Jesse had made a memorial grave stone for Hanzo's late young lover, Kaito, and they visit it together, enjoying the memories of the past, and looking forward to their future together.


	2. How Long Have You Been Standing There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse's day gets worse, but then it gets much much better.

_Nothing, or no one, will ever be enough_ …

            SLAM!

            _Ain’t no way that’s true._

            THWAP!

            _We all change. You changed. I changed. Why can’t he?_

            THUMP!

            Jesse punched the punching bag rigorously. The conversation had not ended well at all. Jesse had furiously eaten his snacks in front of Genji’s face. Amidst angry shouting, crumbs had puffed out everywhere, breaking the impenetrable mask of Genji’s expressionless demeanor. How the hell else was Jesse supposed to react to that? Being told that he wasn’t enough for the man he loved and eventually Hanzo would leave him… how could that be possible? How could he know that?

            It made his heart ache and miss Hanzo more, and he wanted to dive down to his hands and knees and wrap around Hanzo’s legs like a deadweight. Jesse would sink a ship if he had to. He’d hold him down if he had to. No, no these thoughts were what could poison them, having read enough cheesy romance novels to know that clinginess was not the way keep someone around. He shoved those thoughts away, deep, deep, down into the chasm of his brain. They could not be unearthed. Hanzo could never know. They’d just have to love each other and prove Genji wrong. It was as easy as that.

            Jesse gave the bag one last punch, panting, out of breath completely. He was drenched in sweat and he grinned wildly at the damage he had done to the bag. Best he had done in a while. He’d best keep visiting the cyborg ninja more often then, if he was going to get him this worked up.

            Jesse walked into the locker room and opened his locker easily, noticing that he still had some workout clothes from when he was much thinner in there. He smirked and took them out, shoving them into his bag. They were no use now. He shed his pit-stained workout t-shirt, his large stomach dominating the view. When they had first arrived at the Watchpoint, he _had_ lost about ten pounds, dipping down to two thirty-two, but he put it back on and then some. Right now, he was a whopping two hundred and fifty-nine, and his gut was graciously wide and round, his love handles rolling out to support his watermelon stomach. He had to consider that some of that weight was bulky muscle, so it wasn’t like he was all blubber and no style. But, still – Jesse had gotten _big_ , and Hanzo loved it. He loved it. He walked around like he was unchallenged.

            Jesse sat down on the bench and grabbed a towel, wiping his face. He paused, hearing some other voices in the locker room, so he got up, tossed the towel over his shoulder, and walked toward the conversation. His grey workout pants tied well around his waist, his belly dipping over, though the towel did hide some of his chest. He laughed, seeing familiar faces.

            “Howdy, whatcha ya’ll up to?”

            Reinhardt was leaning against the lockers, as tall and as muscular as ever, Jack was sitting on the bench in full gear, pulling on his boots, Lena, aka Tracer, was there already geared as well, and finally, Lúcio was shuffling through music in the background, too distracted to pull on the gear he had laid out.

            “Getting ready for a mission,” Jack said, turning around. His sharp blue eyes looked him over and Jesse stared straight back.

            “Yeah! We got another lead on that Reaper situation,” Lena said in her usual chipper tone.

            “Oh!” Jesse said. “Well, why didn’t you tell me, I’ll go suit up,” Jesse said, pushing off the lockers and turning.

            “You’re not comin’.” Jack said gruffly.

            Jesse felt a spike of something, anger maybe. But, it cut him deep. He slowly turned around and crossed his arms.

“And why the hell not?” he challenged darkly.

            Jack finished tying his boot and let it stomp on the floor. He stood up and grabbed his visor from one of the lockers, and put it on his face, before grabbing his rifle and biotic field. He shook his head.

            “Come talk to me when you can run a lap without passing out,” Jack murmured.

            “ _Ex-cuse_ me?” Jesse started forward, but Reinhardt pushed off the lockers by this point. His movement alone stopped Jesse from taking another step.

            “Easy, everyone,” Reinhardt said, holding out a hand. “McCree, we are simply concerned about your relationship to this mission. We don’t want to put you through any more after than we have to, after all that happened.”

            “Don’t you dare coddle him, Wilhelm,” Jack snapped. “Jesse, you’re unfit for active duty. Look in a goddamn mirror. Ziegler told me about your last appointment and your health is slipping from you faster than a dog off leash – so lose the weight, get healthy again, and then we’ll talk about missions. But until then, you’re a danger to the team in the state you’re in.”

            Jesse balled up his fists and tossed an angry punch at Jack’s face, but he ducked, sidestepped and grabbed his wrist before twisting his arm and slamming his face into the locker. Jesse was pinned to the locker, seething, until he dropped his weight, bent around, and dragged Jack down with him. He pulled away and gained distance. By then, Reinhardt grabbed Jack and held him back by the shoulder and Lena only had to gently grab Jesse’s arm to stop him from punching again.

            “Let him fight me!” Jesse shouted. “I’ll take you down old guy.”

            “What are you going to do? _Eat me?_ ”

            “What the hell is your problem?!” Jesse screamed.

            “Guys guys _GUYS_!” Lúcio finally chimed in, zipping over on his roller blades. He turned on some of his beats, and Jesse immediately calmed down. He watched as Jack relaxed too. It was good that he was still working on some new music effects. Jesse gave Lúcio a subtle nod, but turned back to Jack, who shrugged off Reinhardt’s hand.

            “I want the truth, Jack. I ain’t unfit. I can still shoot the Peacekeeper, I can still outshoot you. So yeah, I’m fat, big fuckin’ deal. I like it, I ain’t got no problems with it. So, what’s your hang-up?”

            “My hang up is that I don’t want one of my men having a damn heart attack on the field. This is my mission, this is my team, and until you get control of yourself, you’re off.”

            “Fine,” Jesse hissed, grabbing his towel off his neck and whipping it down. “Guess I’m out, then. Nice knowing y’all.”

            “Jesse,” Lena said softly, but Jesse stopped her from following.

 

            Jesse pushed into his quarters, and into the bathroom, grabbing the counter and the sink. He had walked all the way back unchanged, and all he wanted to do was to punch the mirror. He was seething mad as he looked at himself, his eyes drifting over his darkened skin, his hairy chest, and his big belly. He took a deep breath. Yeah, he was big….

            He grabbed one of his love handles and squeezed it, before lifting his gut in both his hands. He let it fall and jiggle a bit, smirking a little when he did. He stepped back and undressed completely, inspecting his large thighs and calves. He imagined Hanzo walking up behind him and wrapping his arms – or trying to – around him and pushing his face into his back. He hugged himself instead and took a deep breath.

            Would he really have to quit Overwatch?

            Probably not.

            Would he have to lose weight?

            …Hopefully not, but, _probably_ yes.

            Jesse hopped in the shower since he didn’t get to take one in the locker room, before getting out and getting dressed. He pulled on a black shirt that stretched over his gut, as well as some loose flannel pants, and a hoodie. He padded into the kitchen and opened the fridge, eyeing the leftover pizza, but grabbing one of Hanzo’s yogurts instead. He inspected the label and grumbled before slamming the fridge and finding a spoon. He plopped down at the kitchen table to eat it.

            His quarters were pretty much akin to a studio apartment, and his large bed was in direction opposition to the small kitchen and dining room. A small TV rested on the wall beside the bed, and Jesse and Hanzo often spooned to watch movies before falling asleep or making love. Other than that, there wasn’t much else in there, besides a few of Hanzo’s books he had borrowed, and a massive old movie collection, waterlogged and mostly damaged. Of course, he’d won the game of poker that had landed him the Commanding Officer’s suite, and it was the only one at the Watchpoint. Jack had been furious he’d gotten drunk enough to bet it.

            Today sucked. His snacks got stuck, Genji was being a buzz-kill, Jack was being an asshole. He hadn’t realized how much opposition had formed in the past few months, and it was about the two things that made him the happiest: Hanzo, and his weight. Maybe people sensed it, sensed that he was _too_ happy and wanted to rush in and explode the bombs.

            It was probably the damn weather, if Jesse had to guess. Being cooped up here was giving everyone cabin fever. Why the hell did Jack pick _this_ place to handle the Reaper situation? Jesse remembered being here only for a bit after shit hit the fan and Reyes had disappeared. It wasn’t long after that, that Jesse had too.

            Was he retracing his steps?

            Man, fuck this yogurt.

            Jesse tossed the empty container across the room. Hanzo kept a stash of food here so it wouldn’t be eaten by accident in the common rooms, and so they always had something to eat. Jesse got up from the kitchen table and grabbed some ice cream instead. Rocky Road, and a full gallon of it too. He’d lose weight some other time. Hanzo seemed good at it, having lost all the weight he had gained already. How tedious of him.

           Jesse grabbed a bigger spoon – maybe he should get a bowl too, so he wouldn’t eat so much. Eh, no need. He was there alone. He could stop when he was full. As he opened the lid, a waft of chocolate smell flew up into his face. Jesse’s mouth watered just thinking about the cold frozen dessert melting in his warm mouth. He dipped his spoon into the virgin surface, and dragged it along, peeling up the velvet cream. As soon as the spoon slipped between his lips, Jesse doubted his self-control.

           Jesse melted into the spoon, releasing the loudest most obnoxious moan he could muster, since he was alone. He dipped into a chunk of spun marshmallow and nuts, the metal clanking against his teeth as he slipped it past his lips.

          “You’ll never leave me, right?” Jesse asked the gallon of ice cream. “You’d never call me fat. You just want to make people happy.”

           Jesse dangled his spoon, tapping the rim. “Didn’ think so.”

          Spoonful after spoonful shoveled into his mouth and melted into smooth milky liquid. He felt his belly grow cold, but that more than numbed him to the feeling of fullness. Despite Jesse shivering from the cold, he felt warm enough to take off his hoodie, looking down at his playfully puffed gut. He put a hand on it and kept eating, shoving down spoonful after spoonful of crunch, gooey, chocolatey heaven.

          Before he realized, he numbly scraped the last of the ice cream from the gallon, consumed the bite and leaned back, resting his hand on his swollen gut. He pumped an arm in the air, grasping the spoon like a trophy.

          “That’s a first!” Jesse called out, licking his sticky mouth. “Jesse McCree! Ate a whole gallon o’ Rocky Road in one sittin’ an’ the crowd goes wild!”

_Clap. Clap. Clap._

           Jesse jolted in his seat and immediately regretted it, putting a hand on his now aching stomach. He spun his trunk around and saw Hanzo, standing there by the door, resting against it. He gave him another slow clap and that hazy eye-fluttering gaze.

           “Well done,” Hanzo said, a smooth smile enveloping his face.

            Jesse managed to get up from his chair, despite his sudden onset of nausea. He wrapped Hanzo carefully in a hug.

           “How long have ya been standin’ there?”

            “Since you threw the yogurt,” Hanzo chuckled, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Did you miss me?”

            “Like you wouldn’t believe. I had a very rough day.”

            Hanzo propped himself up and kissed his mouth, pausing to lick the sticky ice cream remnant around it too. Jesse chuckled and tried to steal a few more kisses before Hanzo pulled back.

            “You should relax in bed,” he moved a hand to his stomach and gave it a soft rub. “I want to hear all about it.”

            Jesse grinned and nodded. “Only if you cook dinner,” he murmured.

            “That’s extortion, Jesse McCree.”

            “Yeah, I’m pretty damn good at it too.”


	3. Mad Minute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse recalls a moment from his past, and Hanzo surprises him with a very special meal.

            “So, whata we gunna do now?” Is it close by? What is it? Thievin’’? Killin’?” Young Jesse McCree asked, barely sixteen, his lanky form following closely behind the one they called Mad Minute. Mad was one of the most notorious in the gang, and he had a habit of taking in the new recruits and showing them the ropes. Didn’t mean he was much of a mentor though. It was more of a swim or die type, or so he’d heard.

            Mad glanced over from under the brim of his hat as they walked into town, chewing hard on the cigarillo, down right abusing it. His hair once dark brown, was showing pale with premature grey, which contrasted starkly against his tan skin. His jaw was rough and clenched, and his eyes were dark. They always caught the light in a sharp, eerie way. Among his more distinguishing features was a low hanging, notable beer gut. Nothing about him was sloppy though. He was pure and tight as ever.  He paused and grabbed Jesse’s hair roughly, dragging him into an alleyway and slamming him into the side of a building.

            “Shut. _Up,_ ” Mad spat around his cigarillo. “You want someone to hear ya? Yer here to do as I say exactly as I say it. You get extra credit for not dyin’, got it kid? Fuckin’-A, they send me fresher meat every month. Bet you haven’ even got your cherry popped yet, ain’t ya kid?”

            Jesse quickly swallowed but nodded, trying to lie is way out of this.  

            “Yer full of shit,” Mad hissed, taking out the cigarillo and spitting on the dirt. “Don’t lie to me again, or you’ll be lying in a grave.”

            Jesse could not have crawled further out of his skin, but he needed to get this right. These guys knew how not to get caught. They knew how to get money, and booze, and food, and Mad was one of the best. He nodded carefully and Mad ruffled his hair in a strange show of affection.

            “All right, kid, come with me. We’re almost to the mark.”

            Jesse followed silently for what seemed like another mile. ‘Almost’ meant a mile, Jesse supposed, which was a helluva lot less than what they had walked the majority of the day. He was hot, thirsty, and tired. Mad didn’t seem to slow down though. It was like he wasn’t even human, the way he walked around with so much confidence and sharp wit. Finally, after what seemed like forever walking through the maze of the small town, Mad stopped outside of a food joint. He reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, something Jesse rarely saw nowadays. It was a ten-dollar bill, and Jesse’s eyes went wide as he handed it to him.

            “Go get a few burgers kid, and some fries. Whatever else you want too.”

            Jesse nodded emphatically and rushed inside the burger joint. He pushed up to the counter, his dopey smile taking over. He ordered the food and found them a table. Wow, he’d get to eat dinner with Mad Minute. _The_ Mad Minute. He ordered as much as ten dollars allowed, with a cookie included. They could share, Mad would smile. He’d be in. But for now, he put the cookie in his pocket, so it would be a surprise. Mad didn’t show up though, so Jesse ate a burger and drank his milkshake in peace. He’d never eaten something so good before, and he nearly inhaled the food and drank the milkshake until it was making bubbling noises at the empty end.

            Suddenly though, a man burst into the burger joint, bandana over his face, hat dipped low and gun drawn.

            Jesse jumped and stared. Mad?

            “Everyone _down on the ground now!_ ” he screamed.

            The few patrons that were there scrambled to the floor and under their tables.

            “Kid get their cellphones and crush ‘em all,” Mad said as he shot a cellphone straight out of the teller’s hand. “I’m here to talk to Herald. Anyone got a problem with that?”

            An old man walked out from behind the counter, looking around in shock.

“I-I’m Hearld,” he said. “Oh, please don’t hurt anyone, this is between us, just us now.”

            Jesse had a gun in hand and made sure no one got up from off the floor. Mad coaxed the old man to sit down at the table Jesse picked and he shoved Jesse back to sit down too.

            “Herald’s gotta nice retirement check comin’ in soon, don’t ya Herald? What do you think about that, Jesse?”

            “Gotta be nice money,” Jesse said, nervously.

            “ _Gotta_ be nice money,” Mad repeated with a chuckle. “Now Jesse, you got one minute to convince Ol’ Herald here that he outta give us that check every month. And, go.”

            Jesse blinked. _One minute. One Mad Minute._

            “Kid you don’t have to do this,” Herald said. “You can do better than this. What’s your name?”

            “J-Jesse…”

            “Well Jesse, you can come work for me all right? I got honest work for an honest man like you. You got a family?”

            Jesse looked to Mad and then back to Herald.

            “Yeah…”

            “Oh yeah? Well you can help take care of them by doin’ honest work. You don’t want to go to jail do you? Put them through that?”

            Jesse smirked. “I gotta family,” he said easily. “The Deadlock Gang is my family, and unless you pay up you’re gunna see everything you have slowly slip away until you got nothing else but that damn check. This place goes up in flames, your family gets ripped away from ya, I’ll make sure you lose your house, your family, your dog if you got one. So, what will it be? You wanna make an enemy out of Deadlock? Or you wanna pay up?”

            He didn’t dare glance to Mad, but he saw the fear in Herald’s eyes.

The old man nodded. “You take it, you can have it.”

            “And if you call the police, or if anyone ELSE in here calls the police,” Jesse hissed, scanning the room. “Deadlock will come for ya too.”

            Jesse grabbed another burger from the table and took a bite, chewing rigorously and holding up his gun. Mad chuckled and collected the rest of the food, stuffing it into his large pockets. They walked off a longways, before Mad clapped him on the back.

            “Not bad extortin’ kid,” Mad said. They sat down against a warm rock in the desert, the moon high in the dark blue sky by now, and the stars were uncountable. Mad pulled out the food and his canteen. Jesse pulled out his cookie and broke it in half, handing it over. Mad grinned and took it graciously, passing over the canteen of definitely-not-water.

“Not bad at all.”

 

            Jesse had spent most of the last two hours napping off his ice cream binge, despite the fact that his stomach was gurgling nonstop. Digesting all that chocolate and dairy was hard work. He awoke to the familiar smell, but a smell he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He wriggled to sit up in bed, a hand resting on his stomach.

            “Hanzo?”

            “Just in time,” Hanzo said. “Please sit, I have something special for you.”

            “You didn’t have ta,” Jesse managed, slipping out of bed and lumbering into the kitchen/dining room just feet away from the living space. He sat down as Hanzo dished him something special indeed.

            “Wha—this is downright biscuits and gravy!”

            “I heard it was a favorite.”

            “From who?”

            Hanzo smiled and sat down next to him, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. He brushed his cheek against it and closed his eyes. Jesse noted that he looked far beyond tired, and here he was making him slave in the kitchen. Jesse scooted his chair closer to him, so he didn’t have to lean in so much.

            “Reinhardt likes to keep tabs on everyone’s home cooking for special occasions. I may have convinced him to give me a copy.”

            Jesse grinned and shook his head, looking at his plate filled with the gorgeous sausage, (only Reinhardt’s stock, of course), and giant fluffy buttermilk biscuits slathered in gorgeous southern gravy. Just looking at it made Jesse’s mouth water, and his stomach must have forgotten all about that gallon of ice cream, because it rumbled greedily.

             “Wait so you spoke to Reinhardt about doing somethin’ special for me? Don’t that look suspicious?”

            “He was a little confused,” Hanzo said. “But I masked myself well. I gave him my _gyoza_ recipe in exchange for one of his. Obviously, I did not tell him which one I wanted, but, I did ask about which one’s belong for each person.”

            “Darlin’ you won’t even let _me_ try to make your _gyoza_ ,” Jesse smiled. “That means a lot to me.”      

            “Well, tell me what you think?” Hanzo said gently. “I have to admit, this recipe is…” he tapered off, searching for words as he carefully selected a fork for Jesse and cut into the fresh biscuits. “A bit barbaric in its preparation.”

            “Meant to be made a lot of and quick, that’s good ol’ Southern cookin’ for ya. I’m sure it’s great Hanzo, you’re an amazing chef.”

            Jesse opened his mouth wide, and Hanzo slipped the fork between his lips.

 

            Hanzo’s breath caught in his throat, listening to those delicate smacking sounds again. He had missed Jesse more than ever, and all he wanted now was to have this time together. Watching him down a gallon of ice cream had been an unplanned experience, but one he loved, especially since watching him eat when he thought no one was around was simply transcendent.

He wanted to see it again.

But for now, Hanzo waited for him to finish his first bite.

            “Oh Hanzo, this, don’t tell Reinhardt, but your gravy is far better.”

            “Ah, yes, well. I added some things I believed would make it taste a better,”

            “You didn’t like it?” Jesse teased him.

            “Not my favorite, no.”

            Jesse chuckled and pulled him into a kiss. “That’s all right. I can make you somethin’ you’ll eat later. You look exhausted.”

            “I’m fine, and I have already eaten. Truly, do not worry about me. But, I have an idea.”

            Hanzo stood and moved behind him, letting his fingers massage his shoulders, before sliding his thumbs behind his ears and down along his jawline. Jesse hummed deeply, easing back into his grasp. Hanzo carefully removed his sash from around his hair, and wrapped it around Jesse’s eyes, tying it in the back.

            “Woah there, Hanzo…”

            “Is this all right with you?” Hanzo asked, dipping down next to his face. “I want you to pretend I’m not here. I want you to…talk like you did when I was watching.”

            “Oh, that got you on, huh?”

            “More than you know. I will feed you, and you will sit here and enjoy…and talk to the ghost you think will listen.”

            “Well, honestly, I think I’d like talkin’ to them perfect biscuits.”

            Hanzo grinned wide, moving the chair closer to him, and picking up a bite in the fork before gently poking the prongs into his plump red lips. Jesse opened his mouth wide, as Hanzo pushed the large bite into his mouth. As he drew the fork back, he watched as Jesse relaxed, blindfolded, his fingers interlaced over his belly.

            Hanzo would have to show restraint in touching him, less he break the illusion.

            “What would you say?”


	4. He Ain't Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo devotes his evening to feeding Jesse a lovely meal, and Jesse opens up about his fears. Someone unexpected makes a return.

            “Mmm, you just melt in my mouth, don’t ya?” Jesse murmured.

            Hanzo listened intently, watching him take his time with every bite of the thick starchy dish. The biscuits were hot and steaming, and Hanzo would blow on the food gently before feeding Jesse each morsel. Every so often, he’d give him a sip of a dark beer Jesse had stashed away. Hanzo had iced it so the frothy beverage would be cold in time for dinner.

            “Oh, that’s mighty fine,” Jesse breathed, taking a deep gulp. “I feel like I’m back home… ‘cept I never had a home, really. You’re just about the only thread I got left, Biscuits. Traveled a lot, you know. Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Oklahoma… damn seein’ those mountains and desert in my head. Can hardly remember the place now.”

            Hanzo listened intently, feeling like Jesse might have wanted to talk about his past for some time, but maybe it didn’t come up, or he didn’t want it to. Hanzo could empathize. He slipped another sausage and gravy slathered biscuit along his fat and wide tongue. He melted at the moan Jesse rumbled out, feeling the vibration of it in his own chest.

            “I never wanna be that lonely again,” Jesse drawled, mouth brimming thick with bread and milk.

            Hanzo’s lips parted, and he pushed a gentle hand to Jesse’s, curling his fingers around his between his stomach and his palms. He couldn’t keep away, not now. Something was bothering him. He still wouldn’t interrupt, but Hanzo wanted Jesse to know that he was here. For some reason, Jesse seemed to respond strongly to that, relaxing even more and letting Hanzo fork in bite after bite, dribbles of gravy escaping into his thick beard.

            Hanzo used a thumb to brush the gravy from his chin and he smiled as Jesse seemed breathless with him. He dipped his head, the sash around his eyes folding at the nose. He licked his lips, slipping a hand on top of Hanzo’s before sliding it to the side of his large mound of a stomach. Hanzo got the hint and started rubbing gently, before he fed Jesse another forkful. He always found that giving Jesse a soft meticulous kneading in-between bites was what helped him to keep going. He was doing wonderfully ignoring and pushing past that urge to stop. His training was working, though Hanzo had to admit, he didn’t expect Jesse to put on so much weight so quickly. He gained five pounds more than average for the amount of time it had been, Hanzo had calculated… in secret of course. For some reason, his body stored quickly, scrambling to protect itself against the famine that Hanzo knew would never come. 

            It was difficult to complain about. Hanzo loved ever inch of the man he was with, of the man he felt responsible for. Gentle fingers trailed over the front of his mound and around the side of it, feeling the natural dip his belly gave before filling out again along his love handles. The shape was gorgeous, and Hanzo’s eyes dilated to take him in. Jesse seemed happy with his body as well, and Hanzo watched as his hand supported underneath his gut or placed at its side. With every breath, with every bite, Hanzo swore he could see his large belly push forward a hair more. Jesse took a bite. And another. And _another_. Blindfolded, Jesse looked so gentle with his eating, not making playful faces or wild eyes. He resigned himself to eating whatever met his mouth, and forkfuls were chewed and swallowed in moments.

            “I’m gettin’ full a little early, Biscuits,” Jesse said, taking another swig of beer and burping softly. Hanzo’s nose curled as the barley and gravy smell mixed a bit unpleasantly to him, though the sound was still delightful and endearing.

            “See, if I had known I was gunna be havin’ ya tonight I woulda starved all day. Waitin’ for you. But a man’s gotta eat. Maybe not a whole gallon of Rocky Road but, I was upset about somethin’. Mighty upset. I never used to eat when I got upset. Much the opposite. But when the love of your life in off on a mysterious errand, can’t help but turn to ice cream, you understand.”

             Hanzo listened patiently. It was good. He wanted to hear more about this. He sensed he had a lot of feelings bubbling up and wanted to talk. Hanzo gave his belly a soft rub and squeeze, the fibers of his tshirt stretching to their max. Hanzo’s eyes flitted to the bit of belly skin peeking out from underneath the rim of his shirt. The sight alone made Hanzo sweat between his thighs as warmth flooded into his groin. It had been a long two weeks….

           “My snacks got stuck in the machine again. If that happens one more fuckin’ time.”

           Hanzo stifled a chuckle.

           “Jack said he didn’t want me to go on missions anymore because I was too fat. In front of everyone but Genji and Zeigler. It was humiliatin’. Devastatin’. I… I gotta lose some weight, I think. At least enough…but I tried to punch him out at least.”

           Hanzo’s expression fell and curled into anger and sadness.

           “Genji guessed about us,” Jesse said softly, turning his head to Hanzo. He carefully reached a hand up and slipped off the sash, his hair being tossed back and frizzed.

           “He didn’t have nice things to say either,” Jesse said, choking up a bit. “I can’t believe anything he said. About us. About you. I’m not even going to tell you because I don’t believe it and I trust you and love you too much to ever doubt anythin’.”

           Hanzo moved a hand to his cheek, his heart breaking a little. He stood and offered a hand, and Jesse stood up with him, before Hanzo pulled him backwards to the bed. Hanzo sat him down and glided his hands up his shirt, slipping it off with the sash silently. He grazed his fingers over Jesse’s perfect body, taking it in, knowing he’d have to say goodbye to this version of his beloved creature.

           “I will help you lose the weight,” Hanzo said gently. “That shouldn’t be a problem, Jesse. I suppose we have gone a bit overboard and I would like you to be healthy, especially if Dr. Ziegler is raising concerns. As for my brother…he has things to say. I know he does, but know that I love you, and there is nothing to be afraid of.”

            Jesse relaxed and nodded, looking down at his hairy chest and big distended gut. Hanzo pressed his face down into his chest, curling his hands around his sides.

            “Finally, I will make sure someone fixes that vending machine. Is it the one in the west hallway?”

            “Yup.”

            “Damn, that one is a monster of its own right. Never fear, my darling. I will defeat it for you.”

            “What book you readin’ now?” Jesse accused him. “Another English-knight story?”

            “Mm, no. This one is Greek. An epic poem, _The Odyssey_ by Homer, of course. One of the earliest translations I could find.”

            “Ooof, that’s a good’on.”

            “Oh? You have read it?”

            Jesse nodded. “A long time ago, back when I had the time.”                    

            “I enjoy learning about different cultures. Especially now when _I_ _have_ the time,” Hanzo said. “So much about the world I haven’t gotten to see or learn or experience. My education was vast and knowledgeable, but it was also incredibly sheltered at the same time. Only learning the about the side of it all that would serve me as heir to the Shimada throne.”  

            “Genji mentioned that today,” Jesse said. “I guess he said something about you two ain’t bein’ so close. I told him how kind and carin’ you were, and he just didn’t believe it…uggh,”

            “What is wrong?” Hanzo asked, immediately watching as Jesse held his belly and scooted back into bed.

“Indigestion.”

            “This conversation his upsetting you a bit too much,” Hanzo said, slipping up onto the bed with him. He placed a hand on his tummy and rubbed it as Jesse rested back and stretched his arms and toes out like a cat. Hanzo patted his stomach approvingly, noticing that he was quite stuffed. He’d eaten only two helpings of biscuits and gravy, but enough packed in to his gallon feat, he seemed very full.

            “You rest now, Jesse, I’m here and I’ll nurse your tummy back to health. The worries of the day will fade.”

 

            Jesse had enjoyed the attention Hanzo gave him, and he was happy to hear that Hanzo was willing to help him out at the gym and lose weight. He just hoped it wouldn’t be too hard or put a strain on the things he liked doing.

            They had settled down to watch an old movie, Jesse spooning the tiny Shimada against his bulk. He remembered a time when that difference had not been so apparent, and he was looking forward to being able to position himself for Hanzo again. Their sex life hadn’t suffered as he packed on the weight, but certain things they used to do had become a touch more difficult. They were a creative pair, and Hanzo seemed comfortable navigating his body for his own delight. Jesse just rolled with it.

            “It’s just ice cream. Try it,” Jesse offered Hanzo a spoonful of the sweet velvet Rocky Road concoction. He had another smaller pint in the freezer, and he had gotten hungry again around two in the morning. They didn’t plan on sleeping much tonight, having spent the last hour fooling around.

            “No, thank you,” Hanzo said simply. “You know I prefer savory to sweets.”

            Jesse rested back in bed, wearing nothing but tight black boxer briefs. His stomach rested comfortably on his lap, and Hanzo straddled him, his naked body curling over the mound and his grasping hands held on to his thick squishy love handles.

            “Last chance,” Jesse said, dancing the spoon around in front of Hanzo’s lips.

            “Fine, just to see why you’d eat a gallon and a pint of this,” Hanzo said, playfully begrudging his insistence. Hanzo opened his mouth, and Jesse slipped the cold treat into his mouth.

            Jesse laughed loudly, watching Hanzo’s expression become raptured in the enjoyment of the sweet ice cream. His brow furrowed deeply, in the way that gave in to the yeaning in his eyes. Hanzo clawed his way up, climbing his mountain of a stomach and grabbing his shoulders to dive deep into a kiss. The cold and chocolatey flavors shifted between their mouths as their tongues mingled. Jesse put the empty container on the end stand of the bed without breaking the kiss, though he heard it and the spoon clank to the floor. His large hands pushed to the sides of Hanzo’s cheeks and through his hair, wishing the kiss could last forever.

            Hanzo pulled back and smiled so handsomely, Jesse thought his heart had skipped a beat. He watched has his lover dipped down to kiss his hairy chest and devote his tongue and lips to his nipple, while his hands grasped at the fat of his abdomen.

            “You liked it,” Jesse breathed.

            “Hmm,” Hanzo managed, lost in his grappling lips and fingers. Hanzo worshipped his body like a hidden idol.

            “You always get _very_ turned on when you like new food.”

            Hanzo chuffed softly and placed kisses down his stomach. He curled a thumb into his belly button and tugged it open, slipping his curious tongue inside the gap. Jesse felt it curl and compress inside the rolls of his fat. His lips clasped down, and he pried at his belly just a bit more, trying to get to the opening.

            Jesse squirmed, laughed, and propped himself up a little more. “All right when you start makin’ out with my stomach it is time to get some more ice cream.”

            “You’re not going to have this for too much longer,” Hanzo whined. “Let me be.”

            Jesse chuckled, but nonetheless pushed Hanzo back. He whined softly, not wanting to part with his new lover. Jesse chuckled and shook his head, getting out of bed and pulling on some pants, before scrounging around for one of the shirts that fit him the best.

            “Wanna come to the store with me?”

            “It is two in the morning. Why not just wait until tomorrow?” he purred.

            Jesse gave Hanzo a sloppy grin as Hanzo sat up with his legs dangling off the bed.

            Jesse put his hands on either side of him and leaned in. “You want to wait before you taste that delicious, chocolatey, crunchy, marshmallow filled, _delicate velvety milky_ —"

            Hanzo pushed him back and jumped off the bed, pulling on his undergarments quickly.

            “Fine, we’ll go now,” Hanzo said, drifting to the closet, picking something casual to wear.  He pulled on some pants and a hoodie, and Jesse grabbed his leather wallet.

            “You think Jack would be pissed if we took one of his cars?”

            “Yes, and let’s,” Hanzo answered simply.

            Jesse pushed out the room with Hanzo, the two of them trying to act as casual as possible in case they some how were spotted together at two a.m. – It would be difficult to explain away. But, to his surprise, Jesse noticed someone slumping against the wall in the hallway.

            “Jack? You’re supposed to be on a mission? What the hell?”

            As Jesse moved closer, he sensed something was very wrong. Jack’s signature jacket was tattered and worn, and he was clutching a distended stomach with a gloved hand. His face looked red and frost bitten. Jesse didn’t know what to think of the sight, more stunned that he looked drunk or sick. He’d never seen the man ill in his lifetime.

            Jack started to slip forward. Jesse rushed over, but Hanzo was faster, catching the older man before he collapsed into the floor. In a retching gurgle, black slime spilled from his mouth, onto Hanzo’s shoulder, Jesse’s chest, and the floor. Hanzo reflexively pulled back, releasing Jack to vomit on his hands and knees.

            Jesse brought an arm to his mouth in horror, and Hanzo slipped to his ass, completely stunned, black ooze dripping deep into his lap. Jack looked up, panting, his mouth drenched with oily bile. He managed a haggard breath.

            “The other Jack, he ain’t me…”

* * *

Fanart by [V0mitcomet @ Tumblr](https://v0mitcomet.tumblr.com/)

[Direct Link](https://v0mitcomet.tumblr.com/post/173879401919/poor-jack-voming-some-kind-of-viscous-black) to Art  
_Thank you so much for this amazing piece of art. I think it really captures the visceral experience Jack was subject to. Also, thanks for adding his fur hood! Such an amazing detail.  -- MintyTac_


	5. Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse, Hanzo, and Angela struggle to assess Jack's situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for my beta reader Cadbberry!   
> https://tenoutaten.tumblr.com/

            “Why are you here, _Jack_?” the wraith asked. He was wearing a dark black cloak over his long coat, and it was lined with black synthetic furs as well. The bone white mask contrasted eerily against the shadow of his clothes. Jack didn’t know something like that, whatever he was, could get cold enough to need the second layer. Maybe he just wanted to blend in.

            Jack still held his rifle at the ready, though as he assessed the situation, he lowered it. Reaper didn’t have any weapons in his immediate grasp, but he knew he could at a moment’s notice. He couldn’t help but feel the chill of his presence seep deeply into his gut.

            “What does it matter to you?”

            “You took what belongs to _me_.”

            Jack hesitated, not sure about what he was talking about, until he paused to remember. The notebooks. Jack reached into his pants pocket and pulled two of the tiny journals out, before offering them over cautiously. A clawed hand curled around them with surprising care and Jack could have sworn that for a moment his clawed thumb brushed against his hand. The feeling of it lingered, stinging, like he had grazed against poison ivy. Jack watched as the notebooks enveloped in smoke before disappearing.

            Reaper turned like he was about to leave.

            “I wasn’t going to read them,” Jack said quickly. “I just wanted them.”

            Reaper turned around sharply and closed the distance between them, inches away from his face. Jack couldn’t help but stare into the darkness where his eyes should be.

            “Why don’t you just let go, _Jack_?”

            “Why don’t you?” Jack replied softly, pleased to hear a soft growl coming from his former lover.

            “You still don’t have any idea, do _you_? What it is like for _me_. What happened to _me_. What you _did to me_.”

            “I can see it pretty clearly,” Jack murmured. “You’re not a monster, Gabriel. You’re no Creature from the Black Lagoon. No, you _chose_ to side with Talon, you _chose_ to go against Overwatch after what happened.”

            Without another breath taken, Reaper turned and grabbed Jack by the neck, squeezing harshly with his clawed hands and making him gasp for air. Jack could feel the sharp metal biting into his throat and slicing at fragile skin. He liked to think that he was more than human, but he was frail and old against this ghost. Reaper slammed his head against the mantle of the fireplace and then dragged him to pin him against the front door.

            “You think I _chose_ _this_?!”

            “Okay, maybe not,” Jack choked out, but the humor only provoked a tighter squeeze from Reaper’s gauntleted hand.

            “There was no Overwatch to go _against_. You made sure that everything we had crumbled to dust and _ash_. _Everything_.”

            Jack seethed and tucked his legs up to his chest before sending a forceful kick toward Reaper’s stomach. He erupted into smoke and Jack fell to the ground in a rough heap. He sat up and held his throat, coughing horribly, strings of bloody spit dripping onto his chin. He looked up as Reaper reappeared and moved to come after him again. Jack held up a hand.

            “You’re RIGHT!” Jack screamed, his voice cracking like shattered brick. “It was all my fault!”

            That made Reaper stop in his tracks.

            “I destroyed everything. Blackwatch, Overwatch, you. Everything. You’re right. Please, Gabriel. If you’re going to kill me get it over with. I’ve got nothing left.”

            Jack looked up to that haunting white mask. Still. Silent.

            “I came here because,” Jack managed. “Because I ain’t got nothing keeping me going anymore. Just the memory of you. Of us. I loved you, Gabriel. I still do. I’m a foolish old man that still loves his killer.”

            Jack closed his eyes and slowly lowered himself onto his back, laying on the cold wooden floor. His entire body screamed and ached, and every breath he took through his throat made it throb painfully. He tried to catch his breath, his bearings. He could die here, he thought. It would be okay to die here. He saw the black shape push forward with blurry vision, and for a moment he felt like he was trapped in a dream. A hand pushed gently through his hair before fading.

            Jack opened his eyes, surprised to feel something softer underneath him. He glanced to the window, the dimness of the winter sunset settling on the forest and snow.

            Jack sat up, but a hand pushed him back down. He was laying on the cot and was unsure how long it had been since he had been moved, and how long Reaper had been sitting there watching him sleep. He opened his mouth, thinking about giving him some smartass remark, but withheld it as he noticed that there was no white mask on his face anymore, yet it was still shrouded by the hood of his cloak and jacket.

            Jack’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. He felt woozy, and it took a moment to notice that his arm was tingling and numb. Reaper was holding a bag of red liquid in his hands, and Jack blinked, turning his head to notice the discarded medical equipment nearby.

            “What are you doing to me?” Jack choked out, struggling to speak. He figured his windpipe had been bruised and was swelling up. Breathing was difficult, and his vision kept fading. Maybe a concussion too. He felt Reaper lean in, and Jack struggled to keep his consciousness.

            “I share the name of an _angel_ …” Reaper began. “But I could not be further from such _beauty_.”

            Jack watched as Reaper peeled back the hood from his face, and he gasped softly at the grotesque visage before him. Gabriel was barely a shadow of his former self. Half of his face had been blown off in scraps, revealing sharp inhuman teeth. His eyes were bloodshot and red. Long tendrils of smoke flowed around like hair falling in his face. His form was never the same, always shifting, warping, eyes appearing where they shouldn’t, mouths slipping open and shut. Jack simply wasn’t sure what he was looking at, if this was real or if his mind was fading from him.

            “How can you still love me, _Jack_?”

            Jack exhaled roughly, reaching up and trying to put a hand on Gabriel’s cheek. His fingers slipped into spaces he couldn’t see, and he felt the pain of his skin slicing against shrouded teeth. Jack closed his eyes, the weight of Gabriel’s head pushing deeper into his palm.

            “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

 

            “Go wake up Angela!” Jesse ordered Hanzo as they ran through the halls, before he parted down another long hallway. Jack was heavy in his arms, barely conscious. He held the man upright and to the side, ignoring the bubbly ooze leaking from his mouth and nose. It was better than him choking on it. He rushed into the med bay and placed Jack on his side on one of the tables, before getting him a pan to retch in.

            Jesse was covered in black discharge, but he took the time to rip Jack’s gloves, jacket, and bullet proof vest off, revealing a white crew shirt, and a bloated stomach. Jack clutched at it with widespread fingers and clenched his jaw painfully.

            “Ugggh!”

            “Holy shit,” Jesse managed. “What the hell happened?”      

            Angela practically flew into the room, Hanzo right behind her, and she shoved Jesse aside just in time to watch Jack puke another bout of black bile.

            “Go get cleaned up, you two, I’ll need some help.”

            Jesse nodded and rushed off with Hanzo to the back of the medical bay, peeling off their clothes and putting on some extra scrubs. Except, Jesse had to grab a gown for a shirt instead, since nothing else quite fit him. By the time they returned though, it looked like Jack was at least semi-cognizant, and the agony relieved. Angela was good.

            Hanzo moved over to replace the bed pan filled with black vomit, and Jesse grabbed a warm washcloth to clean up Jack’s face and chin.

            “He said something about the other Jack not being him,” Hanzo said plainly.

            “Jack was supposed to be on a mission with the others,” Angela said. “I mean he _is_ on a mission with the others. I spoke with him and the others not two hours ago. They’re one hundred miles away by now.”

            Jesse glanced over, concerned. “Hanzo, go wake up Genji and see if you can get in contact with the rest of the team. Try not to clue them in with what’s goin’ on, but just confirm that Jack is with them and nothin’ happened.”

            “Yes, I will do that,” Hanzo said, before rushing out of the room.

            Jesse lifted hot towel and dabbed at Jack’s cheeks. The old man winced in pain and tossed his head back, but Angela moved to coax him calm again.

            “I thought havin’ one Jack was bad,” Jesse murmured.

            Angela shook her head, taking her time to examine Jack carefully.

            “He has bruises and lacerations around his neck. He’s been strangled. There’s a puncture mark on his arms. All of these injuries are older, two weeks at least.”

            She pressed a stethoscope to his swollen stomach. “Does not sound good. I may have to pump his stomach, but not without a scan first,” she said. “Help me get him into the scanner.”

            Jesse nodded and lifted the heavy man up into his arms again. Jack was slumping, dead weight, and unconscious again. That worked out for the better at least, as Angela ran her tests. His stomach was full of the back sludge but without knowing what the hell it was or how it got there, and since Jack seemed to have calmed down, Angela didn’t want to force his stomach to empty without running more tests first. She drew blood, took his vitals, and inspected the thick bile underneath the microscope. Jesse hovered around helplessly, pacing, or taking care of Jack’s lesser needs, like cleaning up any bile oozing from his lips, or providing an ice chip or two. He put bandages on his cheeks and nose, where the frost bite was the worst.

            “He must have been out in the cold for hours, maybe a day. Remember when he drove out of base for a couple days? If this is the real Jack, maybe he never came back. Maybe he walked all the way back here.”

            Angela was silent as she looked into the microscope. Jesse moved to the electronic intercom device on the wall panel by the door and clicked on it.

            “Athena, call Hanzo,” he ordered.

            “ _We received a response from the team, everything appears to be in order,_ ” Hanzo instantly replied. “ _However, do you think Genji and I should fly pursuit_?”

            “No, not yet,” Jesse advised. “Let’s hear what Jack has to say first, but I need you to send an encrypted message to Reinhardt, he’s second in command. Explain very carefully to keep his head down but to stay alert. We’re not sure what’s going on, or if they’re in any danger yet, but he has at least gotta know.”

            “ _Very well_.”

            Jesse wandered back into the room, helping Jack get more comfortable. At this point, nothing seemed wrong except the man was exhausted. Jesse couldn’t help but look to his bloated belly, his muscles stretched out and still visible to some extent. He’d never thought he’d see Jack like this, a man once built now with a large rounded stomach. Kind of served him right for all his comments against Jesse.

_But, it must have been the fake-Jack that said all that mean shit today…._

            Yeah but real-Jack had also said some mean shit in the past, too.

_Beggars can’t be choosers._

            “Any luck yet, Doc?”

            Angela shook her head solemnly. “The bile is some kind of …organic plasma. I do not know what to make of it. We’re just going to have to wait until he wakes up and gives us the full story,” she said. “But, I know where he went. I was the only one he told.”

            Jesse frowned. “Where?”

            “He was driving up to an old cabin where Gabriel and he used to meet.”

            “They were somewhat of an item, I know.”

            Angela nodded, her lips drawing thin. “This might have to do with Reyes.”

            “And that means if there is a fake-Jack out there, commanding three of our best…” Jesse trailed off.

            “That’s not good news.”

            “Yeah, we better mark his forehead,” Jesse murmured.

            “Mark it? Why?”

            “I don’t want to get into one of those stand-off ‘who’s the real Jack’ scenarios.”

            Angela blinked but nodded, pulling out a permanent marker and offering it to Jesse. Jesse took it and walked over, tapping his chin with the end of it, before writing something on his forehead.

            “I don’t think that was necessary.”                                              

            “We gotta know for sure,” Jesse said, but he released a wiry grin.

            Jack’s forehead read, in all capital, blocky letters in black ink: **_FAT GUY_**.


	6. They Don't Need To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries his best to distract from the truth of what had happened to him, but the others aren't buying it. Hanzo, Jesse, and Genji have their fears confirmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for my beta reader Cadbberry!  
> https://tenoutaten.tumblr.com/
> 
> Another version of chapter 7 is being written, so there might be a small delay - but not to worry! It's to insert a lot of feeding :O Omnomnomnomnom.

            Jack woke up, immediately feeling the tubes up his nose and in his arms. He managed a groan before reaching up and grabbing the one leading into his nose. A heavy hand stopped him, and Jack glared up at the figure with unfocused eyes, the ceiling light bright and hazing over its edges.

            “Hold up now.”

            He’d recognize that fake accent anywhere.

            “Get off me, Jesse,” Jack snapped, sitting up, but two sets of hands forced him back down. Jack growled and sat up again, this time able to push them back with some exertion. He blinked to clear his vision, looking to Angela and Jesse as they stood back from him. Jesse had stumbled into the wall, and Angela had regained her balance by grabbing a medical tray.

            _Guruglglggguuulllgug_.

            Jack lurched, and a hand moved to his stomach. His jacket was gone, and all that was left was a white t-shirt stained with black crusty goo, and a horribly bloated stomach. Jack felt a wash of shame and anger, and an indescribable hurt. Jack couldn’t argue as Angela coaxed him to lay down again, and Jesse moved over to dab his forehead with a warm cloth. Jack winced a bit at the contact, both from the pain and the lack of space.

            “You need to relax Jack. We’re cleaning out your stomach. You had ingested some…substance. We’re not sure what.”

            “It’ll be at least another hour,” Jesse said, looking to Angela for confirmation.

            “But I want to keep you over night—”

            “Don’t have that kind of time, doc. You have your hour, after that I’m out of here,” Jack murmured stubbornly. He felt awful, like he wanted to vomit again, but he did admit whatever they were doing was helping. He could feel the cool liquid flushing into his stomach and being siphoned back out. He looked down at his gut underneath his hand, expanding and contracting with every breath, feeling every gurgle, every churn, and the stretch of his tender skin. It was tight, his body fighting every ounce of his expansion.

            “You’re gunna have to tell us what happened,” Jesse said. “Hanzo confirmed that there’s a Jack on the plane, and you can’t be in two places at once, so you got to tell us the whole story.”

            Jack pressed his head back into the pillow, wrapping his arms around his stomach in agony.

           “You know I left two weeks ago to get supplies and to check on a lead. But, I decided to go to an old cabin, where Gabriel and I used to meet up after Blackwatch fell out,” Jack confessed. “I wasn’t planning on staying long. Couple days. But, he was there. Waiting for me.”

            “Shit,” Jesse breathed.

            Jack huffed a little and nodded. “Yeah, I know. Reaper and I had a scuffle, he choked me half to death, knocked me unconscious. When I woke up he had chained me to the bed, and he took some of my blood.”

            “Took your blood?” Angela asked.

            “Yup, by the liter, drained me like a fuckin’ vampire. Then he disappeared with and I worked up the strength to break the chains and get the hell out of there. He destroyed my car, so I had to hoof it for thirty miles. I could feel him hunting me…I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to fight him, he took my damn rifle. So, I had to evade. Took me a week to get back here, what with all the snow storms, found shelter where I could. I was barely strong enough to make it back here.”

            Jack wished he had worked harder on the lie. The blood thing had been true – but that was about it. He could see that Angela was accepting it for the most part. They were friends for a long time and she had no reason not to. But McCree was another story. The man was downright searching him, like he could peel back the veil of his mind and take a peek inside. The kid wasn’t too book smart, but Jack had always admired his keen sense of right and wrong. He was like a dog sniffing for drugs, and Jack could tell he had caught a whiff.

            “Yeah, okay,” Jesse began. Jack watched his eyes narrow further. “But how you even know there was another Jack then? And how the hell you get your stomach full of black goo? You had a lot of it in there. Four liters of it. _Liters_ Jack. You were full up.”

            _I’m sorry Jesse, but back off_. _Please_.

            “I knew about the other Jack because Reaper told me I’d be replaced. I didn’t know what it meant until I arrived back here,” Jack said.

            He paused, taking a moment to think.

            “Also told me that the reason he hacked your mission was because he knew we’d be meddling and he didn’t want us to interfere with Dr. Wight’s experiments,” he managed another deflection. “Good thing we did anyway, but that means he might have something to do with this.”

             Jack could tell he couldn’t keep distracting from the truth for much longer. He felt horrible, but they didn’t need to know everything. They didn’t need to _know._ He decided to change tactics and shift the focus and blame.

            “The second-me can’t be all together. Didn’t you notice anything odd about my replacement?”

            “Yeah,” Jesse said eagerly. Jack was relieved that seemed to catch him up on another topic. “He was an asshole. Even more than you. Didn’t want me to go on the mission today because I was too fat. Said it to my face and everything.”

            Jack paused and looked Jesse up and down.

            “Uh, anything else?” Jack asked.

            “ _Hey_.” Jesse warned.

            “I’m not sure,” Angela whispered, taking one glance at McCree’s body before turning her gaze back to Jack. “You seemed to be…touchy. I assumed it had to do with your visit to the cabin. I left it alone because you had mentioned you had a lead on Reaper. I didn’t want to upset you before a mission.”

            “That means no one else could notice either,” Jack said. He felt a strange shame… no… _embarrassment_ flood through him. Could no one truly notice that something was wrong? Surely the clone couldn’t have imitated him perfectly. Was he so two-dimensional that no one could notice? 

            “Yeah, you’re so much of an asshole, no one notices when a clone of ya is bein’ an asshole. Surprise,” Jesse drawled.

            Jack probably deserved that, as much as it stung.

           “Well my evil twin is out there with three of Overwatch’s finest. Seems like we have a new mission. McCree, assemble the others and find out where they’re going so we can get them the hell out of there. I’ll go alert the other Watchpoints in the meantime….”

            Jack tried to sit up, but his strength faded quickly. He closed eyes and sank back down into the bed. He was exhausted, and his body was throbbing, still recovering from his battle with the freezing temperatures outside. His mind swarmed with the sudden visage of smoke, the sound of his voice, the smell of his musk. Jack clung to the leather of his jacket, to what was left of his flesh. His words sent chills down his spin and froze his heart, making it shatter into pieces.

            _You’ve no idea the hunger I feel Jack…you cannot **comprehend** …_

_Then make me._

 

Jack jolted out of his daydream when someone touched his shoulder. Jack looked around. The lighting was not what he remembered, no longer bright and clinical but soft and yellow. Maybe it had been more than a daydream. The tubes were out now, he was dressed in clean clothes, though his shirt felt a bit tighter than he was used to. It appeared as though he was back in his room. It was small, just a bunk room with two cots on either side. Jack still felt the gurgling in his stomach. He looked over to Angela sitting next to him and frowned.

            “What really happened Jack?” she asked gently.

            Jack shook his head and turned away from her. “Guess I couldn’t fool you either.”

            Jack got out of bed, clutching his puffy stomach. Even after his stomach pumping, it was still ballooned up. Maybe after some time the swelling would depress. At least he hoped so; it was very uncomfortable. He took a deep breath and straightened, before pushing to the door. Angela moved up beside him and helped him out into the hallway.

            “You gunna help me take a piss too?” Jack asked.

            Angela sighed, walking him across the hall to the bathroom. She opened the door for him and Jack turned to her. He opened his mouth as if to say something but couldn’t find the words. He shook his head and pushed into the bathroom alone and caught a glimpse in the mirror.

            “Fat Guy?” he murmured. “Dammit, McCree.”

 

            “You look exhausted,” Jesse whispered to Hanzo, as he sat down by his side. Hanzo noticed the cowboy had changed clothes as well, into an old flannel shirt that used to be too big for him. Now it was hugging tightly to his curves.

            Hanzo of course couldn’t deny this, pinching the bridge of his nose, pushing up his thin brimmed glasses. He usually only wore them in the early morning in low light conditions when he was reading, but since it was pushing close to four a.m without sleep, he was having a tough time focusing on the tactical monitors in the Control Room. Hanzo and Jesse were carefully watching for updates, waiting the jet carrying Reinhardt, Lena, Lúcio, and Clone-Jack to ping in somewhere around Malta – right now it showed that they were over the Atlantic, as of two hours ago, around the time when Hanzo had made contact. They should have pinged in again a long time ago. He could only hope Reinhardt had gotten the message in time.

             Clone-Jack had detailed their mission in perfect form, according to Jesse, and he glanced over as his boyfriend was flipping through the report on this tablet again, looking for clues.

            “Don’t get it. How can a clone of Jack be so good at imitatin’ him? Every word in this report is exactly as if Jack had written it himself.”

            “How is there even a clone? Who made it? When was it made? Why did Reaper take liters of his blood? How did he swallow a stomach-full of black slime?” Hanzo asked. “So many unanswered questions, and Commander Morrison is not being forthcoming with us.”

            “Well, Jack said Reaper told him he had taken over our surveillance mission back at the hotel to keep us off the front line as long as possible. He kidnapped Dr. Wight. Could be his doing?” Jesse postulated.

            “Hear-say,” Hanzo said. “I am not willing to believe anything spoken, just yet. What do we know for a fact?” he asked, lifting a finger for each point. “There is a Jack on that plane, and a Jack here. Impossible. The Jack on the plane reported in, and so did the others, and are on course. The Jack who is here threw up an unidentified substance and cannot seem to maintain consciousness. His story is too scattered to piece together properly, so that is all we know for now.”

            “Yeah, okay Sherlock,” Jesse murmured.

            “I choose to take that as a compliment,” Hanzo said. He smiled at Jesse though and got up from his chair, stretching his tender back and arm muscles. He moved over to him and dipped down, kissing his cheek, and putting a hand on his belly, rubbing it gently.

            Jesse lowered the tablet and smiled slyly. “You think now is the time?”

            “I missed you.”

            “Then why you leave for two weeks, babe?” Jesse couldn’t help but ask again, it seemed. “Come to think of it, you left at the same time Jack did. How do I know _you’re_ not wrapped up in all this?”

            Hanzo smirked and squatted down, keeping a hand on his stomach.

            “Because, I had unfinished business in Hanamura. Finances. Loose connections. I kept those paths open because I was not sure I wanted to stay with Overwatch. But now I am sure.”

            Jesse twisted his mouth. “You coulda told me that. What’s with all the secrecy?”

            “To be honest, Jesse—”

            “I brought coffee!” Genji said, entering the room with three cheap cups of coffee. He seemed well refreshed in contrast to the long night Jesse and Hanzo had enjoyed _and_ suffered. His bright green hair and smile seemed contradict the mood. He had decided to wear a sweater and casual jeans this morning, despite not needing them. Hanzo hardly saw the point, but he wasn’t about to comment on that.

             Hanzo stood and growled in disappointment.

            “You have become too accustomed if you think to serve coffee and not tea,” Hanzo complained, taking the interruption in stride. He did not want to have the conversation here, and definitely not in front of Genji. He did not care if his brother knew about them or not, he enjoyed their privacy. Nevertheless, he took the dark beverage and handed one to Jesse, who was too tired to care about the interruption, or so Hanzo hoped.

            “It is not a bad thing to change things up, brother,” Genji said, his tone calm and prophetic. The way he said things now, so divinely ‘wise’ in tone, grated on Hanzo’s nerves. This was not the teasing brother he knew, but a man trying to imitate a monk. It only harped more on his attitude since it had been nearly twenty-four hours since he had gotten any sleep. He sipped the coffee begrudgingly, and made a face of digust, before taking another sip.

            “You still should have made tea.”

            _Ping._

            The three of them leaned forward to check the status of the plane’s location.

            “What the hell?” Jesse asked, checking his report, and then the GPS map, and then the report again. “Yeah, they ain’t anywhere near Malta.”

            “It would appear they are headed South instead of East,” Genji said.

            Hanzo frowned. “Far off course. That is not good. It would appear as if our fears have been confirmed. The Jack on the plane is not what he seems.”

            “They’re still on the move, and we can’t chase ‘em till we know where they're headed, but at least the other Watchpoints are takin’ a look too,” Jesse said.

            “Patience is needed,” Genji agreed. “We have to trust that Reinhardt and the others will be able to handle themselves for now.”

            “Wonderful. More _waiting_ ,” Hanzo murmured.


	7. We Have It and Eat It Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hanzo feeds Jesse more than he has ever eaten in a day, they are joined by unexpected company.

            “There you are,” Hanzo said, finding Jesse in the communal kitchen. “I should have looked here first.”

            “You’re slippin’ Hanzo,” Jesse murmured, opening the large fridge and twisting his mouth in thought. The kitchen was large, mostly because Reinhardt, and supposedly at the time Reyes, had made most of the food for the team, and they needed space. He noticed that in all of the Watchpoints he had visited, the kitchen and dining area tended to be the largest of the rooms besides the warehouse or hanger. If they cut the dining hall space in half, agents potentially could have had their own rooms instead of sharing. Not that Hanzo shared a room now anyway, no one particularly wanted him as a bunkmate, save for Jesse (but that of course was a secret).

            Hanzo glided beside him and put a hand on his wide back, bending over to peek at what the selection was. Slim pickings, really, except for the one thing he knew Jesse was eying. Hanzo gently pushed him aside and pulled out a massive sheet cake that Reinhardt had baked, piped, and decorated, before turning and placing it on the center island. Jesse turned around and closed the fridge, gliding a hand through his messy brown hair.

            “That’s Jack’s birthday cake,” Jesse said.

            Hanzo found a few forks and a knife, and moved to pour Jesse a big glass of milk as well. He scanned the cake, and it did indeed say ‘Happy Birthday Jack!’

            “How old is he?”

            “Don’ know, actually. Not exactly. Fifty-something?”

            “When is his birthday?” Hanzo asked calmly, handing over the glass of milk and the utensils, before picking up the cake.

           “Uhh…” Jesse trailed after him as Hanzo walked into the dining hall. Large tables and metal chairs were set up to hold far more people by capacity than there were Overwatch agents. Hanzo surmised that maybe Overwatch had a large staff back in its glory days. He selected a table close to the kitchen and set the large sheet cake down. It was at least twenty-four inches by eighteen inches, and Hanzo was eager to discover what flavor it was.

            “I actually don’t know that either. I usually just coast through these things as they happen and get gifts later or the day of. Not exactly like I grew up with these kinds of celebrations. Birthdays and presents. Its always the last thing on my mind.”

            Hanzo nodded. “We will replace it when the time comes. I would not feel guilty. We deserve this.”

            Hanzo pulled out a chair for Jesse and watched as his large bulk sat down comfortably in the metal chair. Hanzo took the seat next to him and handed Jesse a fork. He could tell he still seemed a bit nervous about cutting into someone else’s cake, but Hanzo couldn’t care less. Jack had spat fire, and if they couldn’t steal one of his cars to get more ice cream, then they could at least enjoy his cake tonight.

 _This morning_.

            He moaned inwardly at the thought, glancing up at the clock on the wall. It was near five in the morning. Originally, he’d been hoping to find Jesse to take a nap with, but, he supposed eating cake was all well and good.

            “Fine, I will take the first bite,” Hanzo said, slicing his fork into the left corner of the cake. It looked like it was a two layered cake, chocolate, with some kind of red filling. Hanzo allowed the treat to grace his tongue, and he identified the filling as a lovely raspberry jelly. The frosting itself was no doubt a gorgeous buttercream. He moaned softly, if only to make it more tantalizing for Jesse to take a bite. Hanzo wanted him to relax and enjoy himself after the stress of the night. He rubbed his shoulder and back and watched as Jesse placed an elbow on the table. With a slow scoop of his fork, he cut into the same corner of the cake.

            Hanzo delighted, watching him melt into the bite and nod emphatically.

            “Damn, that’s good,” Jesse murmured. “Reinhardt sure knows how to make a good cake.”

            Hanzo gracefully took another slow bite, though he wasn’t planning on eating more than a piece or two. After consuming an entire galloon of ice cream, two servings of biscuits and gravy, and another pint of ice cream, Hanzo could only imagine Jesse’s calorie count was high for the day. He calculated, perhaps, around six thousand. If he could finish this cake, it would no doubt be close to eleven. He wasn’t sure if Jesse had _ever_ eaten close to that much in a day, and he was curious to see if he wanted to try.

            His eyes drifted to the red flannel shirt that was already tight around his belly, and the old belt he was wearing, weathered and peeling, revealing soft suede. He knew Jesse always wore a belt these days. He had to, to make sure his belly didn’t push his pants down. Hanzo curled his fingers into the side of his pants’ seam and grabbed the fork from him. Jesse gave him a cool smile, opening his mouth as Hanzo slipped a tasty morsel between his lips.

            “Damn good cake,” Jesse moaned, the purr resonating through his nostrils as he inhaled sharply afterward. Hanzo kept him in a wide view, gazing to his body as his belly flexed, and the shirt rippled to find new places to crease. Hanzo fed him and marveled at Jesse’s sheer will. Or perhaps, there was no will to it, just love and longing for the food and the one providing it. One third of the cake had disappeared in nearly a half hour.

            Hanzo felt his fingers pinch against his pants seams, Jesse’s love handles spilling even further over the sides as his belly grew. The shirt began to protest softly. Hanzo could hear in the silence of the cafeteria the fabric stretching and tiny threads snapping. The sound of leather groaning as it pulled tight against Jesse’s waist.

            Hanzo put down the fork as Jesse leaned back to take a break, rubbing his swelling gut softly. Hanzo placed a hand on his and smiled.

            “Done already?” Hanzo asked curiously, nearly teasing him. Jesse struggled before releasing a loud belch. He grabbed his milk and chugged it down in one go, before burping again. His stomach made a soft gurgling sound.

            “Considerin’ the situation, I’m thinkin’ I’m done.”

            Hanzo sighed and nodded, disappointed, but, he wouldn’t push him. Seemed like seven thousand calories would have to do for today. His eyes flicked up though, as he heard someone enter the room. He was surprised to see that it was Jack. He looked awful. Tired, bloated, with bandages on his face and _FAT GUY_ on his forehead. Hanzo smiled wryly to himself as he pegged the handwriting as Jesse’s, and also his train of thought, without a doubt. Jesse chuckled softly to himself.

            Hanzo continued to stroke Jesse’s belly. No need to hide here. One third of a cake missing ‘between the two of them’ was suspect, but not enough. Jack slowly drifted over and put his hands on his hips, his gut pressing unnaturally against his trim t-shirt.

            “That’s my birthday cake? You’re eating my birthday cake?” Jack asked, his tone accusatory.

            “Well actually,” Jesse began in a syrupy drawl. Hanzo always thought he turned his accent up a notch when he was trying to annoy his former Commander. “It says ‘appy Birthday ack’. So. Don’t know who this ‘Ack’ is but it looks like I ate _his_ cake.”

            Jack stood there, his shoulders tensed and rolled back. He shifted his weight and looked to the cake, his eyes darting over the stunted size of it. He reached over suddenly, almost so he couldn’t stop himself, curled his bare fingers into a virgin corner and tore out a chunk. The chunk met his mouth sloppily, frosting oozing between his fingers and over his mouth and chin. Jelly dripped on his shirt and belly.

            Hanzo and Jesse stared, stunned to see the lack of restraint this man now had. The sounds of Jack’s gluttonous chewing and breathing took the room hostage. Soft delicate fluffy cake stuffed his cheeks full, and his smacking lips curled around his hand to consume the leftover frosting as he chewed.

            “You okay there, Jack?” Jesse finally managed.

             Jack finally pulled out a chair and took a seat across from them. He reached over to grab a fork before going about his mission more restrained, scooping a chunk of the opposite corner with a fork and shoving it into his mouth.

            “Glass of milk would be great, Hanzo,” Jack murmured, eyes not distracting from his prize. 

            Hanzo blinked and stood before his mind could reason the motion. He pushed into the kitchen and filled both of the men’s glasses. When he returned, Jesse had picked up his fork and was eating from his end again.

           “So, when is yer birthday, Jack?” Jesse asked.

           “Two months from now,” he replied.

            Hanzo furrowed his brow, handing new glasses of milk to both thirsty men. He watched them guzzle at it voraciously.

            “Then why is there a cake?” Hanzo asked.

            “Don’t know,” Jack said. “Seems to happen randomly throughout the year. Think people get it confused with snow or something. Sometimes I even get a cake twice a year because some people think it’s in July or August. Don’t know why. My birthday is at the end of February.”

            Hanzo lowered himself into the chair, looking to Jesse’s determined expression, before studying the old man.

            “And you do not correct them?”

            “Tried,” Jack murmured. “Gets awkward when there’s a party. Presents. Effort put into it, you know? No one seems to remember.”

            Hanzo nodded calmly, not sure what to think of that. It was quite sad. He thought back to what Jesse had relayed to him about no one noticing something was wrong with his copy. Maybe the man enjoyed being ignored. Hanzo could relate intensely, but in the end, _no one_ enjoyed being forgotten. And Hanzo knew that Jack had struggled with his image being stripped and masticated, shredded and _forgotten_.

            “I would slow down a bit, Jack,” Hanzo raised his concern.

            “I just got my stomach pumped and I’m starving. You _cannot_ have a problem with this, seein’ how you plumped up your boyfriend real nice.”

            “Hey.” Jesse shot a look to Jack. “Hanzo knows what he’s talkin’ about, so I’d listen. He said slow down, so slow down.”

            “Yeah, just what you want, don’t you?” Jack snarled. “More for yourself, right fatso? Well you better keep to your side of the cake, cause I’m _catching up_.”

            “Now, now, boys,” Hanzo said with velvety delight. “There’s enough cake for everyone.”

            He stood and collected the knife, slicing the cake in a strange zig-zag way, before shifting one end, a slightly larger end toward Jesse. Jack didn’t protest, which Hanzo pegged for as pragmatism.

            “There.”

            Hanzo sat and watched them both, positively euphoric. He had no idea Jesse had a competitive nature, and it was beginning to show. His belly bulged and expanded, stretching his shirt until the seams around his front buttons stretched into diamonds, exposing thick and puffy skin. Jesse moaned into a bite, and Hanzo knew he was reaching a limit he had never broken through before. He huffed and panted, gasping for breath and leaning over the table, fighting a wave of nausea, no doubt. Hanzo offered him milk as he caught his breath and dove in for more chocolate raspberry cake.

            Hanzo shifted his focus to Jack or was far behind but determined. His belly swelled like he owned a beer gut for years, pushing outward and wider, and hanging into his lap between his wide spread legs. He noticed the small impression in his shirt where his belly button was, and as he flopped back, as if in defeat, raw stretched skin spilled out from under the seam of his t-shirt. Hanzo glided over, giving him a refreshed glass of milk before patting his shoulder. He hovered and circled around, back to Jesse. Resting behind him, he dipped down to grab at his thick sides and curl his hungry fingers around the front of his belly. The action alone made Jesse’s shirt buttons tear off with soft pops. His chest was now exposed, his belly stuffed, and Hanzo dipped down to kiss his cheek and whisper encouragement.

            Hanzo’s eyes dashed to Jack, who watched in innocent confusion. Perhaps he had been joking about Hanzo’s role in Jesse’s weight. Perhaps he didn’t think it true. Perhaps he now doubted that assumption. Their eyes met, Hanzo’s own sharp and daring.

 _You’ll never defeat him, Jack_.

            Jack moved as if he had heard his unspoken challenge, leaning forward and picking up his fork again. Hanzo could not keep his grin from gracing sharply across his face. He sat back down next to Jesse, who had slowed down since his buttons had popped. Hanzo grazed his fingers across his belly, no longer afraid to show his affection. He pulled Jesse into a strong kiss with his free hand, the other grabbing tightly against the soft flesh of his breast, and the folds that now settled under his arms. They needed nurturing if they were to continue to grow.

            Hanzo retreated, and replaced his lips with another bite of cake, helping Jesse devour bite after bite. As Jesse’s eyes closed, Hanzo looked back over his shoulder to a defeated Jack, his belly plump and exposed as his shirt hiked up above his belly button. He watched them, numbly, yet enthralled.

            “One more bite Jesse,” Hanzo whispered. Jesse opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the last bite of spongey cake, chewed, and swallowed. He gasped for breath and looked to Hanzo, smiling that sweet loving smile.

            “I did it. Take that Jack,” Jesse murmured.

            “You did,” Jack replied, slumped back and smiling.

            Hanzo hummed softly and kissed Jesse gently on the cheek. He let the silence settle and retrieved the two men some more milk. They drank slowly and happily, and Hanzo consumed his way easily through the rest of Jack’s cake.

_SNAP!_

            The three of them froze, confused. Jesse shifted forward, and then back, before carefully snaking his belt out from around his waist. As he leaned back, Hanzo noticed the front of his pants no longer contained his overflowing stomach, and his belt had _broken_ from the strain. Jesse held it up and inspected where it had buckled and teared. It looked like it had been growing weak in dozens of places, warped and stretched beyond use.

            A slow rasping chuckle, a sound Hanzo had never heard before, echoed through the room. Jack’s laugh was contagious, for Jesse joined him and Hanzo as well. Perhaps they had all needed this, and the conversation that erupted happily between them. Jesse shifted to control his new stuffed size, and Hanzo soothed his aching stomach with calm belly rubs as they talked. Jack leaned forward and started talking about his favorite foods and grilling mostly, and how he was going to plan a big Fourth of July party this year.

            “Hot dogs, hamburgers.”

            “Mustard, lots of ketchup, slathered in the buns.”

            “Coleslaw on pulled pork.”

            “Fuckin’ egg salad.”

            “No, gross.”

            “Egg salad is delicious!”

            “Fine, _you_ make it. I am not touching the stuff. _Steak_.”

            “Steak!”

            “Big fat juicy healthy beef steak.”

             Someone cleared their throat at the other end of the room, and Hanzo glanced up to see Genji standing there, his arms crossed. He looked to Jack and Jesse, and then very pointedly at Hanzo. Hanzo bristled inwardly, taking that gaze as a soft threat. At the very least, a harsh blame.

            “The craft pinged again, and its status says it has landed,” Genji said.

            Jesse leaned forward. “Where?”

            “Eastern New Mexico.”

            “What is out there?” Hanzo asked, confused.

             He looked between Jack and Jesse, who seemed to lock their eyes in silent communication. Jesse took a breath and leaned forward, wiping his hand over his mouth as if he had to drag his frown down further, or to wipe the frosting and crumbs out of his beard.

            “Nothin’ but Desert, Death, and the Deadlock Gang.”


	8. Jesse hurgp McCree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse deals with the hiccups as he prepares for his mission, and Hanzo tells Jack the truth behind his interests.

            The last time Jesse had been fitted for his armor and gear was about three weeks ago, so he was happy to feel that it all fit _even after_ his cake binge. Hanzo had procured his measurements and the armor had arrived mysteriously, with some interesting materials included. The plates protecting his chest and stomach were broad and lightweight, and the fabric between them was, as Hanzo said, nearly indestructible and expandable. The result was a nice, stretchy piece of armor for his trunk. Hanzo had also made sure to get him a new belt for his BAMF buckle, and some new chaps. These weren’t worn down and rough like the other ones. The leather was thick and well cured and damn did Jesse devour the smell of it.

            He sat down to put on his boots, his large gut, even when constrained in armor, spilled far past his belt. He struggled to pull his leg sideways to tie them, but did all right, if not doing so a bit lopsidedly. Leaning over made him moan and groan, and all he heard was Hanzo’s soft chuckles beside him.  If he ever needed Hanzo’s help to tie his own boots that might be the signal to stop gaining weight. He wasn’t sure what the status was about losing the weight, considering the _real_ Jack hadn’t threatened to kick him off the team, and they were in the middle of a rescue mission. He’d lose it later.

            Jesse had to admit, he might have overdone it today. All that chocolate cake was sitting like a heavy lump in his stomach, and he couldn’t stop releasing soft gurgles and burps. He paused every so often in getting ready to take a breath and rest through the growing ache and nausea. The armor was preventing him from shifting his gut or soothing it. This was just something he’d have to get through by himself.

            He wondered how Jack was doing. He’d never seen the man enjoy a slice of cake let alone eat a quarter of a sheet. He also hadn’t been blind to Hanzo’s encouragement, but he couldn’t explain why he didn’t feel threatened by it. A part of him felt sorry for Jack, even if he had called him ‘ _fatso_ ’. All that had melted away when he heard the man laugh for the first time in nine years and talk about steak. It was something to feel good about, at least, even if they were sprinting head first into a part of the States that Jesse never thought he’d visit again.

            Jesse glanced to Hanzo changing next to him, his mostly naked form gorgeous within view. He noticed his legs first, where the metal met flesh. They seemed irritated and swollen, but he wasn’t about to say anything about it. His eyes slipped up to the curve of his muscular ass, grasped firmly in his brief shorts. They seemed to hike up a little more around the cheeks to contain them, and his handsome thick thighs swelled at the bottom seam.

            Was Hanzo filling out? Jesse found that hard to believe, until he drifted his eyes upward as Hanzo reached up to tie his sash into his hair. He noticed a small tummy. Very small, more like a little pouch forming underneath his belly button. This wasn’t the bloated Hanzo he knew from when they would gorge themselves, no. Hanzo was putting on _fat_. Not much, but enough to make Jesse’s pulse throb. He’d never say anything though, less he scare it off. The thought about Hanzo joining him at least part way got him excited.

            Jesse exhaled softly at that thought and couldn’t help but feel victorious as he leaned over and pulled on his other boot, staring at the man’s plumping ass cheeks for what felt  like a lifetime. His eyes flicked up and noticed that Hanzo had a sideways glance to him, most notably directed at his love handles spilling outward over his belt. In another moment their eyes shifted to meet and they both released wide smirks.

            “Caught me,” Jesse said.

            “And you, I,” Hanzo replied, pulling on his _hakama._

            Jesse wrapped his serape around his shoulders and grabbed his hat from the locker. He drifted over, kicking a spurred boot out in front of the other with an extra jingle.

            “Howdy there, stranger, don’t believe we’ve met. I’m McCree, Jesse— _hurgp_ –McCree. ‘Cuse me, I gotta case of hiccups. Don’t let that– _urp_ –bother ya none," Jesse said, even though they were more like a hiccup-burp combination. His stomach wasn't being quiet either.

            Hanzo gave him another honey chuckle before he offered a hand and smiled. “Hanzo Shimada, at your service, Jesse Hiccup McCree.”

            “Very clever of ya. I’ve seen ya around these parts before, Hanzo. Gotta– _gurp_ –admit you’re a sight for sore eyes, all the way out here.”

            “Hmm,” Hanzo said. You have good taste then.”

            “You’re mighty confident,” Jesse countered, keeping up his roleplay flirtations.

            Hanzo squared off to him. “Truth begets confidence.”

            Jesse pushed closer and put his metal prosthetic hand on the lockers behind him, and Hanzo easily slipped back against him, his face shrouded in the shadow of Jesse’s hat. He hiccuped again, and took a breath, wondering if they were adding to his little game or destroying it.

            “Then you wouldn’t think it a little too forward– _furgp–_ of me to ask a gorgeous man like yourself out on a date, would it?”

            “What makes you think I find you equally attractive as my own beauty, Jesse McCree?”

            “Let’s just say I got my ways of readin’ people. Like a book, see.”

            “And what does my book have to say?”

            Jesse grinned and dipped into his ear, murmuring something real low that made Hanzo curl up and gasp. He paused to put a hand on the side of his stomach, and Hanzo curled his fingers between his own. Jesse paused to hiccup one last time before giving him a betraying smile of his true affection. He _loved_ this man.

            “My, my, that is a rather dirty book I’ve written,” Hanzo breathed.

            Jesse felt Hanzo’s other hand slip to his waist, and Jesse dipped down into a soft kiss, opening his mouth wide to receive Hanzo’s over-eager tongue. Sharp inhales and soft smacking sounds consumed the empty locker room, and Jesse allowed himself to grow a little hard by such a simple interaction. He wasn’t the only one. He could already feel Hanzo’s bulge against his thigh, taunting him. Jessed liked to think he’d gotten hard just by a whisper.

            Jesse pulled back though. “We should…”

            “Focus on the mission,” Hanzo said, like he was agreeing with him.

            “Yeah…” Jesse murmured.

            He smiled though, to cover up his disappointment. After the cake binge, he had been more than turned on to go at it then if Jack hadn’t been there. Now, he could have been down for a quick go at it too, but then he noticed how tired Hanzo still was, especially as he closed his eyes, panting against the locker. Jessed leaned in for another small kiss and pulled back, a soft hiccup escaping him once more.

            “You’re right. We gotta get movin’. I will go help Genji prep the plane.”

            “I will finish getting ready.”

            “Ya gunna wack it, ain’t ya?”

            “McCree!” Hanzo gasped, mockingly. “You _can_ read me like a book.”

            “And you really do have one _smutty_ book,” Jesse grinned.

 

            Hanzo glanced around the empty locker room and chewed on his lip. He had to admit Jesse’s little play had gotten him going, and _what he had said_ was beyond delectable. But, he felt guilty being so wrapped up in his love while there were three missing agents and a potential evil out there. It was the same guilt that crept up on him a few months ago when Jesse and he had fallen in love. He’d come to realize that their love hadn’t compromised as much as he thought it might have – their love and relationship made them stronger.

            If they had to steal minutes here and minutes there, then so be it. It wouldn’t cause any harm, it was simply something they had to keep in check. But for now, the burning desire wanted to be sated. Hanzo took another look around and slipped his hand down—he pulled back, hearing footsteps. He scrambled to look busy and finish getting dressed and geared. He was surprised to see Jack walk past him, confident in his gut, though he had changed into a clean, larger, shirt. He pushed to the locker at the end of the set and grabbed one of his jackets.

            “Are you joining us?” Hanzo asked. He couldn’t help but glance back to his forehead, either.

            Jack looked over and snorted. “Yeah.”

            “You are well enough for that? I am surprised Angela is allowing it.”

            Jack grunted.

            “Unless of course she is not,” Hanzo guessed.

            “If we hurry up and get our assess out of here, she won’t be able to stop me. _You’re_ not going to try and stop me, are ya?”

            Hanzo glanced down to his distended stomach and then back to Jack. The man was clearly still in discomfort. It was incredibly curious to Hanzo, having seen many stuffed stomachs in his day to think of the rigid man succumbing to such a raw experience, before and after that birthday cake. Whatever that black substance was, it had been consumed in an impressive volume, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it had been forced upon him or if he had consented to the practice. He wasn’t there for the story, but his omission of an explanation, _and_ his gluttony this morning made him consider the possibility of the latter. If he had told the truth behind his sickened state immediately, Hanzo would not suspect obfuscation and his explanation would not be objectionable. But, there was no such explanation. Jack was guarding something.

            Of course, he did not know Jack well enough to extend his curiosities… _directly_.

            “I am not equipped to speak against your actions. Jack, nor can I speak to how you feel,” Hanzo replied plainly. “But, I am in the position to speak tactically, and if you join us, Mercy must as well, since it would be an ill thought to leave her alone at the base. Genji could, yes, stay behind, but he would be of much more value to this mission than you. That is fact. So, I will not stop you, but, you should stay behind and give us the support and information we need while we’re on the field and while you recover.”

            “There’s nothing to recover from,” Jack growled.

            “Angela may have cleaned out your stomach, but it will take a couple of days, maybe more, to rid your body of the discomfort. Your stomach has expanded and purged – it needs time to adjust and return to normal, not to mention digest what has already pushed past into the rest of your gut. It is likely you’ll be upset for some time.”

            Jack gave him a sideways glance.

            “Jesse said you knew what you were talkin’ about. Didn’t think you _knew_ what you were talkin’ about.”

            “It has been my experience many times,” Hanzo confessed. He turned to him and drifted closer. Jack seeing him in practice was one thing. Admitting it out loud was another, and he felt as nervous as he had when he had told Jesse for the first time. But Jack needed his help. He needed to hear the truth.

            “I’m quite practiced at eating to capacity. The feeling of being full is exhilarating, but I do it only when I know I have the time to recover properly.”

            “You gorge yourself regularly?” Jack snorted out. “You really did make Jesse fat, didn’t you, Hanzo? Christ. You _get off on it_. Were you getting off on me? You speak like you’re a professional.”

            Hanzo felt a stab of anger and guilt he couldn't explain, before he took one final step closer to Jack. He watched the old man’s social armor crumble before his eyes, knowing he had overstepped his bounds. Hanzo had that effect on people.

            “You need to realize something, Jack,” Hanzo hissed, poking his gut with a sharp finger. He watched Jack wince. “If you keep tearing down everyone around you, you _will_ be left with no one. I am speaking as a friend, not a _professional_ , and someone who understands where you are. Know when you have over extended yourself and stay behind.”

             Jack grabbed his wrist and tried to twist it away from him but Hanzo flipped his hand, grabbed Jack’s arm and shoved him against the lockers. He pinned Jack’s arm to his chest with his forearm; the motion had been graceful and sharp, and Hanzo’s expression hadn’t changed, used to his reflex taking charge when it needed to.

            “Especially if you intend to keep your secrets,” Hanzo said, sharply.

            “You’re one to talk,” Jack said, but his will was waning. Hanzo was tired, yes. Exhausted even. Jack was _drained_. Yet, Hanzo still held him pinned to the lockers. He studied him, braced against his arm. He searched his eyes. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Shame. Guilt. _Longing._

            Hanzo leaned in carefully.

            “Chase your desires, Jack. Never fear what you want. But, what you desire is not with us, not today.”

            Hanzo finally let go and watched Jack slide to the ground. Hanzo grabbed his bow and quiver, strapping them around his shoulder, dressed perfectly in his _kyudo-gi_. He took a glance behind him, watching as Jack curled up, dipping his head into his knees and grabbing his hair.

            Hanzo extended his stride out of the locker room and to the nearest comm panel. He pushed the button.

            “Dr. Zeigler, Commander Morrison is in the locker room. He needs you.”

 

            Damn it.

            New Mexico it was then.

            Jesse had mixed feelings about all this, as he sat in one of the small chairs on a spare flight craft. It was cramped in there, only meant for three people max, and he had to be honest, Jesse counted as two of those people. Genji was small, cramped up front and piloting, but Hanzo’s broad shoulders stretched out far past what the back seat offered.

            Which meant that Jesse was spilling over the seat like an abused tube of toothpaste, his stomach groaning and growling in protest. This aircraft was faster than the larger jet – this one had more power, and they were not trying to favor stealth. But he couldn’t stand being in the chair for longer than an hour. So instead, he watched as Hanzo relaxed and nodded off, before finally falling asleep. He didn’t disturb him. He was cute when he slept. Perfectly calm. Rigid. Like he belonged in a coffin and not sprawled over the free range of a bed. Even though, when Hanzo spent the night, he curled up like a bug facing him, somehow scooting lower and lower to bury his face into his stomach. Jesse on the other had was a sprawling, tossing, turning, snoring wreck, and Hanzo had told him he had gotten the rhythm of moving with him down pat.

            Jesse blinked and yawned, feeling sleep creep up on him….

            It felt real nice.

            There was a sharp dip and jostle, and an explosive boom. Alarms blared, the jet lights turned red and flashed.

            _WARNING! AIRCRAFT DAMANGED. EMERGENCY LANDING SEQUENCE ENGAGED._

            Jesse looked up to an equally stunned Hanzo and launched forward into the cockpit. The front of the jet was on fire, and Genji was slumped in the front seat. There was a bullet hole through the window. What in the—

            “Genji!” Hanzo screamed in a panic.

            Jesse pulled Genji out of the seat and in the back as the jet shook out of control and the alarm sounds blared. Jesse pulled Hanzo close, and Hanzo wrapped his arms around both of them and tucked his head down.

            Jesse wondered if this was it.

            That would really piss him off.


	9. The Roadrunner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Jesse McCree learns a valuable lesson from Mad Minute.  
> Jesse, Hanzo, and Genji find themselves stranded in the desert without food and water, and it is begins to take its toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to say that it is all down hill from here, but this is one of my favorite chapters. I am from New Mexico, so it was fun to write about it, though sad to write about it in such a dire situation. However, I love the symbolism of my beautiful state.
> 
> Minor warning for abuse, vomiting, and a very Hangry Hanzo.

            Young Jesse McCree was a pretty good shot, and pretty good was an understatement. He was sure he made it into Deadlock by now, but after a month, Mad Minute was still hovering over him like a vulture. He heard whispers that maybe Mad actually liked him, but that wasn’t something Jesse wanted. Special treatment out here was a death sentence, or at least would get him beat up to a pulp.

            Not that _he_ thought Mad liked him. The man sure didn’t act like he did.

            “You do better, McCree, or you ain’t worth more than the damn pubic hairs clogging my drain.”

            Yeah that wasn’t exactly a statement of endearment.

            Jesse nodded, aiming down range with the massive revolver, too big for his lanky fingers. They had hiked out into the middle of the desert to shoot some cans off an old fence. They were a good thirty yards away, which was a bit of a challenge, but not quite enough. Jesse had to really do something great to impress this guy.

            And if fortune was to favor him, he saw a different kind of target. A large roadrunner hopped up on the fence, a lizard dangling proudly from its beak. It cocked its head curiously. Jesse smirked and took aim.

            The gun fired, but Jesse yelped as a hand grabbed firmly at his wrist and twisted it harshly, making him drop the gun. Jesse watched as Mad towered over him, before _deliberately_ twisting it a bit more. Jesse screamed as he heard and _felt_ the sharp crack of bone.

            “You some kind of sicko, kid? We don’t hurt animals for no reason, you got it?” Mad snapped. “Especially not one of those. You even know what that is?!”

            Jesse whimpered, falling to the ground on his knees, but Mad didn’t let go of him, squatting down and pointing at the bird as it bobbed its long tail up and down for balance.

            “That’s a roadrunner. The Pueblo Native Americans out here believed that they protected against evil spirits. They’re a good omen and can bring health and healing. They kill the rattlesnakes you see, and their power, cunning, and endurance is legendary. You tellin’ me you want to _kill_ something like that?”

            “N-no,” Jesse managed. “I didn’t know!”

            “Show some damn respect, McCree,” Mad snarled, finally letting go. “Sooner or later, you’re gunna realize that bird is the closest thing to a friend you got out here.”

            Jesse slowly stood up, holding his wrist and trying his best not to cry. He inhaled sharply, not understanding how anyone in Deadlock could think this man liked him. Though, after a while, he did see Mad soften, watching as the roadrunner finally consumed its meal, hopped off and trotted away, breaking every so often to bob its tail and look their way. Mad turned and picked up the gun, pushing it in his holster.

            “Let’s get you back and patched up.”

           

            Jesse crawled out of the flaming wreckage, helping Hanzo carry Genji in his arms. They stumbled out into the cold, the sun just peaking up over the horizon. Drenched in sweat and blood, Jesse swirled around to gain bearings. They weren’t where they wanted to be, and he didn’t see civilization, or a road. The jet had at least made an attempt to land safely, but it did so on the edge of a massive cliff like an asshole.

            He followed Hanzo as he brought Genji to a clear patch of dirt a few yards away from the wreckage. Jesse knelt down and noticed that there was a bullet wound in his side. Hanzo removed his helmet to reveal that his head was split and bleeding.

            “He’s alive,” Hanzo said. “He should be fine if we get him some medical attention.”

            “I’ll go grab the kit,” Jesse said, rushing to the jet and tossing out any supplies he could dislodge. Only a duffel bags’ worth, and Hanzo’s bow; Genji probably had his sword on his person. The rest was crushed and warped by the buckling metal of the craft. How they had landed unscathed was a mystery, but he had to admire the one who designed the jet, as it crumbled in all the right places, letting the three of them leak out with minor injury. Jesse felt the whiplash pretty horribly, however, and his body was screaming. Not to mention, he felt like he was going to lose that cake, his stomach twisting violently. He kept it together for now.

 Jesse adjusted his hat reflectively and dragged the supplies away from the jet. He handed the medical kit to Hanzo, who set about bandaging his brother.

            “You ain’t worried about the bullet wound?”

            “In his cybernetic body, there is nothing I can do to repair something like that. Genji will have to tell us if it hit anything vital. The injury to his head however is not severe, but he is unconscious. We should find a way to contact the team as soon as possible.”

            “I’m going to try and see if I can get the comms working, but we best get movin’,” Jesse said quickly. “I ain’t one for standin’ around. We were shot down. Whoever did it is going to be lookin’ for us to confirm the kill.”

            Jesse pushed back into the ship feeling like his hefty body was bogging him down. He huffed a little and held his stuffed stomach. Something wasn’t right. The jet had crashed. The comms panel was shot. Jesse knew there was a portable radio somewhere. Aha!

            There is was, wedged up toward the front behind one of the seats. He pushed forward and froze, hearing a disconcerting groan of twisted metal.

            _Cluuunnnnkkkkk kunk kunk kunk …kunk…._

            “Shit.” Jesse exhaled. He eyed the radio and carefully leaned forward.

            “JESSE!” he heard Hanzo scream.

            Jesse flinched and turned around, grabbing the brim of his hat and diving out of the craft. As he rolled forward, a reflexive move for him, he quickly realized the strain his weight put on his muscles, and he felt a sharp tearing pain rapture through his hamstrings, and lower back. Jesse yelped and spat out the sand he’d swallowed as he landed.

He heard the craft grinding against dirt and rock, before releasing in a quick rush of air. Jesse scrambled back and Hanzo dove beside him, wrapping his arms around his chest from behind as Jesse turned around. The craft was no longer there, and the two of them waited, holding their breaths….

            _CRUCHSH-CLASH!_

Jesse fell back into the dirt, and Hanzo slipped beside him, bending over to kiss him and lay over him.

            “Jesse,” he choked out.

            “I’m here Hanzo. Didn’t get the radio.”

            “We will figure something out. Don’t worry.”

            “I was in that thing,” Jesse said, shocked, feeling sick to his stomach. He finally turned away from Hanzo, crawled a couple feet to a bush and retched his binge in a soppy pile. He felt Hanzo’s gentle hands pull his hair carefully from his face as he lost the thick contents of his stomach. The taste of acidic sugar laced the inside of his mouth and teeth, and the effort was extraordinarily painful. He had been so full, that the muscles in his stomach had stretched and weakened. Heaving it all was not easy.

            Jesse panted and gurgled for breath, feeling Hanzo beside him every second.

            “Genji?”

            “He is only five feet away,” Hanzo said. “Do not worry, we are fine.”

            Jesse gave him a quick nod as Hanzo peeled away and returned with a sanitary wipe. Jesse practically washed his entire mouth out with it. Soup tasted better than bile. He stumbled to his feet, letting his stomach settle. He felt lighter and surprisingly better, at least.

            “Let’s get going,” Jesse panted. “We’ll head west. There’s gotta be something that way, toward the center of the state. Albuquerque, Santa Fe. Or any smaller town will do.”

            “I trust you,” Hanzo said with a firm nod.

            Hanzo took his hand in his and gave it a squeeze, before he picked up Genji once more. Jesse shouldered the rest of the gear. After the sun had risen, it was a cool sixty degrees, and Jesse led them out west for miles. Genji awoke only shortly after and managed to get on his feet. He had apparently lucked out with the gunshot wound. He’d need repairs but nothing critical had been hit. Hanzo kept him close by for support and carried his helmet for him. As much as Hanzo complained about his brother, and as much as Genji doubted Hanzo’s ability to give a shit, Jesse knew the two brothers would be fine. Eventually.

            Their trek took them miles. And _miles_. The day was long, arduous, and without food. The single canteen of water Jesse was able to retrieve was nearly empty. Hanzo and he had agreed to save it for Genji when he needed it.

            “You wouldn’t happen to have any sake in that jug of yours, would ya, Hanzo?”

            “Sorry.”

            “Worth a shot. We better set up camp soon. It’s gonna to get real cold out here at night.”

            “I thought deserts were supposed to be hot,” Hanzo complained, exhaustion seeping into his tone.

            “It’s December.”

            “But is it not a desert?”

            “It’s _December_ ,” Jesse insisted, too tired to argue. “Which means the weather is going to be whatever the hell it wants to be. Could be sunny, could snow, could rain, could get mighty windy in a day. It could drop to twenty degrees tonight or negative four. That’s New Mexico for ya. We’re going to have a hard time makin’ it through the night if we don’t build a fire, so let’s pick a spot and get to it.”

            There wasn’t much of a spot to pick. New Mexico had a dense desert, nothing like the vast sand wastelands people normally conjured in their heads when they thought of a desert. Arid shrubs dominated the landscape, and waterless rivers carved massive ravines and ditches into the scrubland. Jesse managed to find them at least some kind of clearing, settling on the warm side of a shallow ravine. The sun’s rays had warmed the rocks to some extent and it would take awhile for them to cool, but not too much longer during the winter. The air was already growing crisp and cold, as there was no humidity to trap the heat of the day. Jesse could tell they wouldn’t get lucky with New Mexico’s mood swings tonight - it would dip into the negatives, no doubt. Without food or water, and certainly without warmth, Jesse knew they didn’t have a lot of time out here.

            Hanzo moved to collect kindling and firewood, and Jesse built the pit out of rocks. The ravine should protect them from the wind, and the pit further still, Jesse thought. The last thing he wanted was for it to blow out in the middle of the night.

            Jesse looked up as Genji tried to help, but he seemed a bit unsure of his footing. Hanzo moved to him and forced him to sit down.

            “Rest brother,” he urged him. “Drink this. All of it.”

            Genji complied, mild and far too parched no doubt to reject the offer. Jesse wasn’t sure what his body needed, but water had to be a part of it.

            “Do you know where we are, McCree?” Genji asked.

            “We’re out in the middle of the desert,” Jesse said softly, his joke stale. “But no, other than that. But it’s all right. We keep headin’ west, we’ll be okay I think. For now, we gotta hunker down for the night.”

            Genji rested down and winced, shaking his head. “We were hit by someone, but no one, from what I can tell, has been following us. I’m sorry, I should have seen it coming.”

            “Nothing we can do about it now,” Hanzo said firmly. Jesse beckoned him over to help nurse the kindling fire as he struck a match. Fortunately, they had a full pack of those at least. Once they got the fire going, Jesse helped Genji to his side, wedged between the rock face behind him and the firepit. Hanzo hugged his knees to his chest and leaned into Jesse’s bulk, and Jesse felt Genji curl up beside him on the other side, doing the same. An hour went by in silence, the three of them too tired, thirsty, and cold to complain out loud. Jesse’s appetite was even, but he could hear Hanzo’s stomach growling softly.

 Jesse had to admit that at least Genji seemed to warm up pretty quickly, and he drifted to sleep, his head in Jesse’s lap. He had a hard time restraining himself from stroking his soft green hair, and Hanzo watched passively, as if soothed by the sight. It was not long however, before Hanzo started to shiver miserably. Jesse was feeling the benefits to his weight, not quite there yet. Nonetheless, he peeled off his serape, wrapping it around Hanzo’s shoulders. Hanzo responded by leaning into him more.

            “It’s going to get worse,” Jesse whispered.

            “H-how much worse?” Hanzo asked, his teeth chattering.

            “A lot worse,” Jesse said, before he collected the courage to extend his arm and pull Hanzo into his lap. Hanzo did is best to conform around Jesse’s large bulk, without disturbing Genji. The archer squiggled in his lap for a moment, before he wrapped the serape around them both as best he could and disappeared beneath it. Genji must have gotten a whiff of warmth, because he too wedged his way into Jesse’s lap and buried himself beneath the serape, into Jesse chest, and against Hanzo’s side. At least that was an extra layer of warmth for Jesse himself, though holding the weight of two Shimada boys against him was crushing and uncomfortable.

            Jesse wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight either, and he didn’t. Nor did he the following night. Or the night after that.

            The morning of the fourth day, everyone was at their wits end. Thanks to Jesse, he had found them a source of water by melting some snow and warming it up, but food was near non-existent, save for some mild vegetation. Jesse could have gotten them through the desert in the warmer months. It would have had its own challenges, but, in December, anything they could eat – critters, snakes, rabbits, lizards, birds – all of those creatures were tucked away and out of sight.

            Jesse sat numbly in front of the fire, daydreaming about the breakfast he wanted to eat. The hunger was getting unbearable; his stomach wouldn’t stop growling, and it was painful to do nothing to satisfy it. He watched as Hanzo stalked around angrily with his bow, hoping to clip some bird or stray rabbit – _something_ to eat. He had taken possession of the serape too, which Jesse couldn’t complain about, not to his always-cold boyfriend. Genji seemed to be fairing the best out of all of them and was doing his duty to scout ahead or cover their tracks, in case they were being followed.

            Jesse perked up though as Hanzo drew his bow and stilled. He scanned the flat land, wondering what he was aiming at. Then, he saw it.

            “Hanzo NO!” Jesse scrambled up and pushed him back, trying to grab his bow. Hanzo erupted into anger.

            “Jesse! Are you insane?!”

            Jesse looked to the roadrunner, skirting around their territory curiously.

            “Don’t kill it,” Jesse said firmly.

            “It is breakfast!” Hanzo drew his bow again.

            “Hanzo I said don’t!” Jesse screamed, but Hanzo fired his bow anyway. Jesse exhaled, relieved that he had pushed him off balance enough to miss again and the roadrunner dashed off out of sight. Hanzo turned on him, tossing his arms out wide. The gesture had made Jesse take a crooked step back, and he fell sharply on his ass and back. With his weight collapsing, Jesse felt the fiery strain of his twisted muscles and he curled his arm to his back, breathing sharply through his teeth. Hanzo seemed unsympathetic.

            “You _idiot!_ ” he snarled angrily.

            Jesse put a hand to his head, noticing that his hat was missing. He looked up to Hanzo and shrank back, having never seen this look of pure anger on his face before.

            “Do you _want_ to die out here?” Hanzo asked. “Do you want to starve to death?! What is the matter with you? We could have eaten something for the first time in three days! I cannot believe–”

            “Jesse, Hanzo,” Genji said quickly, pointing. 

            Jesse looked to the direction that Genji was pointing. It was the roadrunner, who was padding closer and closer to them. It was a large gorgeous female, from what Jesse could tell, with a healthy crest and plumed feathers to keep away the cold. He’d never seen one so close before. She trotted up and pecked at Jesse’s hat, before lifting it in her beak and carrying it away, dragging it across the dirt when she needed to. Jesse didn’t know they could be that strong…or….

            “What in the hell?” Jesse asked softly, to no one. He got up and set to following it, the bird zig-zagging a path through the brush.

_Sooner or later, you’re gunna realize that bird is the closest thing to a friend you got out here._


	10. Stew and Chewables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse, Hanzo, and Genji find surprising relief from their survival woes in the house of Jesse's old friend. Hanzo bites off more than he can chew. He's is in trouble now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks for my beta reader Cadbberry!  
> https://tenoutaten.tumblr.com
> 
> There will be a slight slowness in chapter releases this week. I've a bunch of stuff written but its broken and needs proper connecting. Will get on it asap! Thanks for your patience!

            Jesse couldn’t explain it, but he had a feeling this bird was leading him somewhere. Jesse didn’t know where, but he could not help but acknowledge a feeling of a lightness in his heart. Hope. Good energy. He didn’t stop to see if Genji or Hanzo had been following. He could hear them groaning and their metal feet crunching on sand as they walked after him.

            The roadrunner slipped through the brush, dropped the hat, and ran up to a small adobe cottage, surrounded by nothing but a gorgeous spanning view of a valley below, healthy cacti, and what seemed like a well-maintained greenhouse. There was an old truck peppered in snow outside, and he noticed smoke drifting up from the chimney stack. Someone lived here!

            Jesse grinned as he watched the gorgeous bird _caw-cawk_ outside the window and he rushed forward to scoop up the hat and return it to place. He turned to see that Hanzo and Genji had followed, and he was relieved they had. They both seemed dumbstruck. Jesse pushed to the wooden door and pounded on it, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

            An older, dark skinned man with long white hair opened the door. He was a little hunched over, crooked with his old age, and he still had that same beer gut Jesse remembered.

            “Jesse? Jesse McCree. I’ll be damned.”

            Jesse swung his arms around the strange man and laughed, never before so happy to see _the_ Mad Minute in his life.

            “What the hell are you doing here?! You’re alive!” Mad exclaimed, wrapping his arms around him all the same.

            “Barely. We’re in a bad way and need food and water. Please tell me that’s green chili stew I’m smellin’”

            “Been cookin’ for a day,” Mad said, looking past him to Genji and Hanzo. “Come in, you all look like shit.”

            Jesse pushed inside the cottage, pleased to see that Mad had set himself up so nicely. He had always _talked_ about the retirement plan: _someday I’m gunna leave all this behind, Deadlock, crime, murder, thiever’n. I’m gunna get myself an old adobe out in the middle of nowhere and live for myself. You’ll see Jesse, that’ll be the dream. That’s the dream._ It was overwhelming to see the place so quaint, decorated in gorgeous personal touches and flavors of New Mexico, even if everything seemed a bit eclectic.  

            Jesse moved to welcome Hanzo and Genji inside, putting a hand on Hanzo’s back. They were both fading fast, he could tell, without the excitement Jesse had for meeting his old friend.

            “Genji, Hanzo, this is Mad Minute. He used to look after me in Deadlock. Mad, this is Hanzo and Genji Shimada. Hanzo’s my boyfriend, so you better be extra nice to him, and Genji is a cyborg ninja, so. Probably be nice to him too.”

            “I’m nice to everyone,” Mad said, with a snort, handing them all mismatched cups of water. They all took their time to chug the water, and Mad set them up with green chili chicken stew and more water at the small table by the front window. Jesse relaxed and scarfed down the first bowl, and Mad kept the refills coming. The cowboy watched as Genji ate eagerly as well, slurping up the soup with from the brim. Hanzo ate slightly slower and took great long gulps of water between bites.

            “Spice too much for you, Hanz?”

            “This is the best thing I have ever eaten,” Hanzo said emphatically.

            “MMmm hmm!” Genji agreed.

            “Glad it’s going somewhere good,” Mad said, putting out some bread for them too. Jesse grabbed a fresh hand-baked loaf and broke it, using the spongy bread to soak up the stew. He watched as Mad answered the scratching at the door, letting the roadrunner into his house to stomp around. She hopped up on a built-in window seat by the front and rested down on a pillow.

            The cabin was quaint, but the kitchen was large, taking up most of the front room. Behind the kitchen looked like the entrance to a small atrium or greenhouse, and there was a plastic and screen door beside the counter as well, leading out to it. The table they were sitting at was by the front door, next to the window that looked out into the front yard. Jesse noticed that snow was starting to fall, and he counted his blessings with every bite of stew he took. He had to count pretty damn high.

            As the three of them ate through their hunger pains, Mad took the opportunity to set about making some more stew and refill their bowls as they needed. He pulled meat out of the ice box, and a collection of fresh vegetables and green chili, which he no doubt put in everything he ate. Jesse watched him prepare the stew, before his gaze settled on Hanzo.

            “Ya doing all right Hanzo? You look a little sick.”

            “I’m fine, just a bit nauseated,” Hanzo admitted, his expression twisting sourly.

            “You can handle _wasabi,_ but you cannot handle green chili, _Anija_?” Genji chuckled.

            “It is not the spice! I…I feel full. I haven’t eaten in three days and I simply need time to rest.”

            Just then, Mad sauntered over, as if on cue, dishing up some more stew for all of them. Genji set to eating his second bowl, Jesse his third, though Hanzo appeared to still be struggling through finish his first.

            “Mad, you got anythin’ tamer? The chili is upsettin’ Hanzo’s stomach.”

            “I did say I was fine,” Hanzo gestured frantically as he looked to Mad. “I am fine, the stew is just fine.”

            “Fine?! My stew is _just_ _fine_? This is my grandmother’s recipe, I’ll have you know.”

            Jesse watched as Hanzo’s expression turned to a slightly wide-eyed panic, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

            “Hanzo, relax. Mad never knew his grandmother, he’s just being a dick.”

            “I will take some more please and thank you,” Hanzo said quickly holding up his bowl. “I do not need special treatment, you are far more than hospitable to us, and I would regret it deeply if you misconstrued my difficulties in eating as distaste or discomfort,” Hanzo said, the words rushing out like the rapids of a river.

            Mad opened his eyes wide and blinked and inhaled sharply. He refilled Hanzo’s bowl before he pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sitting down, apparently deciding not to respond.

            “So, you’re fat and gay now, huh?”

            Genji snorted into his bowl and Jesse chuckled, glancing Hanzo’s way as he set to eating his stew more deliberately. He knew Mad was a personality to get used to.

            “Yes,” Jesse replied, delighted. “You can blame Hanzo. He’s smokin’ hot and a great cook.”

            Jesse gestured to Hanzo, whose face was buried in the bowl of soup, slurping up the last of it. Mad snorted and gestured to Jesse.

            “What you weigh, now, kid?”

            “Two fifty-nine,” Jesse said proudly.

            “Two fifty- _nine_ ,” Mad grinned, leaning back in the chair. “Hanzo, was it? You haven’t been treatin’ this kid well enough. Even at two fifty-nine he looks like a he could stand to gain a few.”

            “I beg your pardon?” Hanzo asked straightening a bit, his tone clearly offended. Genji put a hand on his arm and spoke softly in Japanese. Hanzo replied sharply in kind. They argued briefly before Hanzo chuffed and shook his head. “I would hope you’d confess if you felt neglected, Jesse.”

            Jesse just burst out laughing, putting a hand on his warm belly, and pushing his bowl toward Mad. Mad got the hint and stood, taking Genji’s and Hanzo’s bowls as well, moving to the stove to dish them up some more.

            Jesse leaned in. “Hanzo it’s okay, babe,” he whispered, reaching over to take his hand. “Just relax, drink some more water. He didn’t mean it.”

            Hanzo sighed and nodded, doing as he was told, as Mad returned with three full bowls.

            “Don’t get me wrong, you’ve done a good job,” Mad said to Hanzo. “But, you’re makin’ him strong while lookin’ like a toothpick yourself? That’s hardly fair.”

            Jesse grinned and winked to Hanzo, who seemed to fluster a bit more. Jesse knew he had to pull Mad’s attention away from his firecracker somehow. They were all overtired and perhaps a bit traumatized. Mad’s sense of humor did not ring well with everyone. Actually, it rarely rang well with most.

            “I can’t believe that bird led us to you,” Jesse said, changing the subject.

            Mad smiled. “She did?”

            “Stole my hat, had to chase her down.”

            “Pippa brought me half the stuff in here,” Mad gestured to the knick-nacks. “She’s good company.”

            “How’d you tame her?”

            “Raised her from a chick. She ain’t one to stick around though, goes where she wants to. Mates, has babies, I’m sure. But she always comes back, especially when its cold out.”

            Jesse shook his head in disbelief. “She’s watchin’ over you, Mad.”

            “I hope you had someone lookin’ out for you, Jesse.”

            Jesse nodded, and settled down to tell Mad the story. Hanzo sat patiently across from Jesse, eating more stew, while Genji excused himself to nap on the couch. Jesse told him about joining Overwatch, leaving Overwatch, joining Overwatch again. He told him about the clone of Jack and real Jack, and his friends being kidnapped. He ended it talking about Hanzo though, because he couldn’t help but do that. It was nice to talk to someone about him, someone he didn’t care to hide from and probably never would. Even though Hanzo was mostly a quiet corroborator, he could tell Hanzo enjoyed hearing Jesse recount their story, about how they feel in love and came to be. Mad Minute was the one man on the planet that _knew_ where Jesse McCree had come from. He knew the side of him he tried hard to bury, even from Hanzo. So, when he spoke candidly about their love for food, keeping it mostly light and scarce of detail, Mad listened attentively, and appeared to soften toward Hanzo, giving him smiles and nods of approval.

            “And look at you now,” Mad smirked. “Big and proud. That’s the dream, ain’t it? Hanzo, I remember when Jesse was a twig. Damn, I wanted nothing more than to see you grow up and let go, like every man should eventually. Life is too short to ignore good food in favor of figure.”

            “Who could not agree with such wise words?” Hanzo asked, slurping up some more stew, though Jesse noticed some discomfort growing in his expression.

            “Plenty, actually. Gotta admit Mad, it’s really nice to know you’re so happy for us. I’m used to people looking at my body like I’m doin’ something wrong with it,” Jesse said, feeling himself blush a bit. He swooped his hat off of his head and put it on the table, watching Mad smile at it. Jesse knew he recognized it. Hanzo reached over and took Jesse’s hand, and gave it a squeeze.

            “Your arm though,” Mad gestured to his prosthetic.

            “Casualty, yeah,” Jesse said, flexing the mechanical fingers, and sand drizzled out of the cracks. He’d have a hell of a time cleaning it.

            “Got rid of that tattoo though, probably for the better.”

            Jesse shrugged. “Don’t know about that. I ain’t afraid of my past, Mad. Sure it wasn’t the best of my days, but it’s a part of me.”

            “You don’t remember me as the best damn friend you’ve ever had?” Mad accused him.

            “You broke my arm. Twice.”

            “Yeah well you deserved it, you little shit.”

            “You broke his arm?” Hanzo asked, concerned and a bit bristled. Jesse waved him off and shrugged. He’d probably tell Hanzo more about it later, but not in front of Mad. It was around that time when he realized just how little Hanzo knew about his days in Deadlock. He never spoke to it. Only one person he ever really talked to about it, and he was now a mass murderer. Besides Jesse supposed it was all in good humor. Deadlock humor, that was.

            “Listen, Mad. I gotta use your phone. Try and get in contact with help. That all right?”

            “Uhm, got bad news, kid,” Mad said. “Ain’t got no phone out here. Ain’t got no one to talk to. But I’ll tell ya what. We’ll drive into town tomorrow and I’ll get ya to a phone then, how’s that sound? You deserve a spot of rest. Just take it easy and help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

            “That’s a dangerous offer,” Jesse chuckled. He glanced outside the window though, watching the snow falling lightly around the truck. A part of him didn’t want to waste time.

            “Afraid it can’t wait. We’ve already been missing for close to four days.”

            Mad studied him and nodded. “All right, I’ll set you all up with a change of clothes so ya’ll can at least take a shower. I’ll go check and make sure the truck wants to start. It always acts up in the cold.”

            “Thanks Mad.”      

 

            Hanzo didn’t know how to process all of this. It seemed so peculiar, that someone from Jesse’s past would be all the way out in the middle of nowhere. On top of that, he decided that he didn’t much like Mad either. He would be civil, of course. The man was being beyond hospitable. However, he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed how Jesse changed around him. It was subtle, but it was there; treating Mad like a man to follow and not a man to hold with distant regard considering his affiliation. Hanzo thought of his old friends, and he could not conjure one he would introduce so affectionately, let alone one that had broken his arm – twice – on purpose, by the sound of it. Besides his comments about Jesse not being taken care of had frazzled Hanzo, but he had already been activated by three days of not eating and this unfortunate morning.

            Which had consequently led Hanzo down a very unfortunate path. His stomach twisted in protest to every slurp of stew he took. His stomach had contracted no doubt from the lack of food and filling it again had been painful from the beginning. He felt full, even after only three bowls of stew. It was difficult to fathom that after decades of training his gut would contract so much after three days! It must be passive aggressive, Hanzo thought, for never before had he been starved in such a profound way. Now, filling his stomach with something he’d never had before, let alone something spicy, was deathly intolerable.

            As he finished his third bowl of stew, he felt a fire burning in his belly, and it was leaking up his chest and into his throat. Hanzo tried to hide his face twisting in discomfort, but he lost it when his eyes met Jesse’s.

_Urghp._

            The intense burning sprung forth with the soft belch, and Hanzo pressed a hand hard into his chest and exhaled.

            “Ugh!”

            He looked to Jesse who was chuckling.

            “Why are you laughing?” Hanzo asked. “This is terrible!”

            “Heartburn?”

            “Yes, horrible indigestion,” Hanzo panted and seethed a hissing sound through his front teeth. He groaned and put a hand on his belly as he felt his muscles contract and squeeze, causing sharp pains to dash through his sides. He stuck his tongue out like a dog, as if that would help any. Jesse stood, now concerned more than in a good humor.

            “Ya probably ate too much too fast. And green chili can sneak up on ya. I’ll go see if Mad as any antacids.”

            “Yes, a good idea,” Hanzo managed. He stood reluctantly and poured himself another glass of water. He chugged it down, though that only seemed to make things worse somehow. The cold mixture flushed into his burning stomach and riled it up again. He managed to make it to the couch, his hand on his stomach beneath his _kyudo-gi_. The weight of his plop had created a ripple in the cushion, bumping Genji’s resting head against his pillow. Hanzo glanced over as his brother lifted his tired head.

            “You’re getting fat again, brother, making waves like that,” Genji sat up, apparently noticing something was wrong. “Uh oh, I know that look.”

            “I am not fat, and I do not have a look,” Hanzo insisted.

            Jesse walked in with a bottle of antacid chewables and handed a couple to Hanzo.

            “McCree, has Hanzo ever had indigestion before? Around you, I mean?” Genji asked.

            “Genji.”

            “I don’ think so,” Jesse thought for a moment. “He had a bit of an ache once, but he’s been pretty tolerant. Can’t say he has.”

            “Genji don’t,” Hanzo pleaded.

            Genji inhaled deeply, getting up and pouring Hanzo another glass of water. He handed his bother the glass and Hanzo gave him a sharp look. If he told Jesse on him…. He better not _dare_ tell Jesse on him. Though he was certain his boyfriend was about to find out. He’d rather garner unknowing sympathy, rather than informed. judgement. But, he knew the latter was going to be the more likely one, as Genji cleared his throat.

            “Welcome to Hanzo-has-a-tummy-ache 101. My name is professor Genji Shimada, and I will be your instructor for this afternoon.”


	11. Green Chili for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Genji teaches Jesse how to take care of a belly sick Hanzo, and decides to make up a story to cheer him up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Total fluff, enjoy the fluff. Fluff for you! Fluff for you! Fluff for everyone!

            “Kill me,” Hanzo whispered, his throat dry and hoarse. “I deserve this, but I do not deserve to suffer. Make my death swift and merciful.” 

            Jesse traced his fingers through chunky locks of his hair as they rested on the couch, tracing his fingers through the lovely sash tying his hair up and carefully taking it out. Hanzo’s hair spilled in thick clumps neglected and clogged with grease and sand. Jesse didn’t mind, though, gently massaging his scalp until Hanzo’s eyes drifted closed. His mouth wavered uncomfortably, and his nose scrunched.

            “I’m not gunna kill ya, Hanzo. The antacids really aren’t helping?”

            Hanzo shook his head mildly, and his lips drew thin.

            “McCree, come join me in the kitchen,” Genji said, waving him over as he took a kettle off the stove. Jesse gave him a curt nod, before wrapping the serape around Hanzo a bit more and kissing him on the forehead. He then got up and sauntered over, pulling his pants up underneath his gut. Personally, he couldn’t wait to take off the armor he was wearing, but Hanzo came first.

            “You really going to teach me, Professor Genji?”

            “Yes, of course,” Genji said. “I do have to admit I took care of my brother when he returned from his secret meetings with Kaito, especially when he started to put on weight. He didn’t want Kaito to think he was too weak to handle his own tummy aches, so he hid them for a good while. However, he didn’t do well to hide them from me.”

            “So, what’s the first step?” Jesse asked, putting his hands on his hips. It was nice to hear Genji talk about taking care of his brother. Things were often hot or cold between the two.

            “We are lucky your friend keeps a good stock of teas. I’ve chosen a green tea, yes,” Genji showed him, before pouring the liquid into a mug that said “BADASS” on it.

            “You couldn’t find a different mug?”

            “Surprisingly, or perhaps, not for you, this was the tamest in his collection.”

            “Got it. So green tea?”

            “Yes, with two tablespoons of honey.”

            Hanzo burped loudly behind them and moaned. “I am breathing fire!”

            “Two tablespoons, okay,” Jesse confirmed, pulling his lips in to keep from laughing at Hanzo’s exaltation.

            “Stir carefully until the honey is mixed well, then as you are stirring, pour a bit of cream in. The cream is not typical, but it will help with the spice he has consumed.”

            “That makes sense,” Jesse said, smiling as he watched Genji prepare the tea with near religious devotion to his process and precision. He gently tapped the spoon on the edge and lifted the mug to Jesse.

            “Try it, so you’ll remember.”

            Jesse studied Genji’s expectant gaze. He had honestly thought Genji had been joking when he offered his “Hanzo-101” course, but it was clear that he was taking this very seriously, and he couldn’t help but compare it to Hanzo’s own intensity. So, Jesse gave in, taking a sip of the tea and licked his lips.

            “Hmm, good. Smooth.”

            “Yes, it is perfect. Come.”

            Jesse followed Genji to return to Hanzo. The elder Shimada burped uncomfortably and shifted, putting a hand on his bloated stomach and his other hand to over his mouth. Jesse couldn’t help but notice him play it up as they sat down next to him, Jesse on his right, and Genji on his left.          

            “Drink this, Hanzo,” Genji said, holding the mug for him as he took a trembling sip, before allowing Hanzo to take the mug himself. Jesse stroked Hanzo’s hair again, and Hanzo turned a bit toward him.

            “Thank you Genji, Jesse,” Hanzo said, taking the mug from them and sipping some more tea, settling into a grumpy expression. “I should not have eaten so much after suffering of starvation. It was unwise, and I am paying the deepest price.”

            “The deepest price, huh?” Jesse murmured a bit sarcastically.

            “Do not diminish my experience,” Hanzo said firmly. “I’m in awful discomfort.”

            “Now that Hanzo is settled with his tea. It is good to provide a belly massage for the aching tummy. Let me show you, Jesse. This is your job now,” Genji said with surprisingly mirth. He put a hand on Hanzo’s bloated stomach and patted it. He demonstrated, rubbing the puff in slow small and gentle circles, before taking Jesse’s hand and placing it on his stomach. It was easy to replicate his tactic but by the look on Hanzo’s darkened expression he could tell this was almost a tease.

            “Oh, please _kill me now_ ,” Hanzo hissed, seething from a gurgle escaping him. Jesse could feel his stomach rumble beneath his palm and Hanzo tossed his head back and harshly spoken Japanese words slipped past his lips and teeth.  

            “You used to rub your brother’s stomach?” Jesse asked a bit accusatorily.

            “He would beg me to, yes. He would lay in bed moaning and groaning and tossing and turning and whining and crying until I would pay attention to him, isn’t that right brother?” Genji asked.

            “I was a child!”

            Jesse smiled and started rubbing Hanzo’s belly in earnest, giving him soft pats. “I’m not judgin’ ya, darlin’. Must have been a frightful bad stomach ache in those days.”

            Jesse watched as Hanzo’s cheeks flushed red, but the harshness of his expression faded. He was like putty, he thought, wanting everything to do with the sympathy Jesse and Genji were affording him. So, he would give it to him, because that’s what boyfriends did. He watched as Hanzo sipped his tea and stretched to put the back of his hand on his forehead.

            _So dramatic…._

            “I was still training, I have not felt this terrible since the early days,” Hanzo said, as if he was admitting a great pain in his past.

            “I remember when I first started,” Jesse began. “I remember by first belly ache I nearly passed out on the couch while you rubbed my belly. I didn’t know what you were doin’ but it sure helped. I hadn’t even told you I liked you yet but no way was I going to stop ya,” Jesse chuckled. “This feel nice, Hanzo?”

            “A little to the right, you are neglecting that side.”

            “’Course darlin’,” Jesse said evenly, moving his hand over to the right, Hanzo grimaced and Jesse moved his hand the other way, guessing he had chosen the wrong ‘right’.

            “What else do I need to know, Professor Genji?”

            “Ah, yes, you have provided relief to the inside, and to the outside, now you must relieve the mind. Distract it from the pain by telling a story.”

            “A story, huh?”

            “Yes, preferably a positive one,” Hanzo chimed in, wrapping his lips around the mug’s rim. Jesse was beginning to wonder if there was even discomfort anymore, though he could hear the gurgling and the feel this stomach churning beneath his fingertips. Jesse put a bit of pressure on his spongey belly, and Hanzo released a soft burp, though he didn’t seem to cringe when he did so. Cute.

            “Well, all right then, let’s see,” Jesse began. “Once upon the time there was a spoiled prince, who lived in a far away land. Let’s just name him… Ganzo. Oh, and he had a brother named …uhhh…Henji.”

            “Very well,” Hanzo said, though his tone was cautious, aware of Jesse’s story direction.

            “And Henji was obviously the more handsome one, so Ganzo was jealous,” Genji chimed in quickly.

            “Who ya think is tellin’ the story?” Jesse warned, patting Hanzo’s belly. “Sure, Henji was handsome, but it wasn’t like Ganzo was ugly. ‘Sides, he was taller. A lot taller.”

            “Not that much taller,” Genji argued.

            “No, he was taller,” Hanzo said simply.

            “All right, let me tell the story,” Jesse laughed. “So, Ganzo was spoiled rotten, and his favorite thing to do was enjoy all the treats in his kingdom. He got to eat all he wanted without gainin’ a single pound. He’d enjoy all of his favorite foods and sweets every day and all day. So understandably, Ganzo loved food. He would steal away to the kitchen and struggled to learn how to cook, but something was missing.”

            “ _Shōyu_?” Genji asked, his tone concerned.

            “I’m—I mean Ganzo–is a spoiled prince, of course he would not be missing _shōyu_ , that is absurd,” Hanzo interjected.

            “Mmm, no not soy sauce,” Jesse grinned. “He was missin’ a bit of a bite to his food. He heard that on the other side of the world, there was a rare and precious type of chili, called _green chili_ , and it had a wonderful ability to improve nearly every dish ya put it into.”

            “Hmm,” Hanzo’s expression twisted. “Sounds too good to be true.”

            “Well, it was just a myth, Ganzo thought,” Jesse said, running his hand in large circles around Hanzo’s belly. It was small, the size of one of his hands, but it was there. Jesse secretly wished that it would stay. Maybe someday. “But, nonetheless, Ganzo set to travel across world in search of this legendary chili plant.”

            “Henji accompanied him, because the spoiled prince couldn’t make it out there alone,” Genji added.

            “Yes, sure, Henji joined the quest,” Jesse added with a chuckle. “The brothers found themselves in the wonderful state of New Mexico. They searched far and wide, asking about these fabled green chilis, but all they heard about was these things called red chilis. Strange that they would be red, or sometimes even yellow, but not green, ain’t it? Nonetheless the brothers settled down to try it out. They added the red chili to all their favorite recipes and end up a bit disappointed by the endeavor.”

            Jesse paused in his story, since he was making it up as he went along.

            “Oh no, that does not sound very happy to me,” Hanzo murmured. Jesse watched as he finished his tea and settled down, his eyes drifting closed. Genji collected the mug and moved to the kitchen to pour more tea, except he got two more mugs out this time.

            “Mmm, well fortune was kind to the brothers, because they stopped into a local bar and met the most handsome devil on the face of the earth. His name was Messe J..JerCree?”

            “Messe JerCree,” Hanzo repeated as if he couldn’t help but do so.

            “Messe, see, was a dashin’ big fat beauty. Ganzo had never seen such handsomeness  before, with his gigantic smile, and swarthy cheeks.”

            “How big was he?” Hanzo turned to him, putting a hand on Jesse’s belly.

            “My, pretty big. Bigger than me, even.”

            “Ooo….”

            “Oh yeah, a real hunk. Anyway, Ganzo, who was a little rosey cheeked and flushed, approaches this big ass cowboy and finally asks him about the green chili legends. Now, Messe just gets a big smile on his face, walks back into the kitchen and returns with a bunch of red chilis. Ganzo was startin’ to wonder if he had heard him, before he tells him to take them home and bury them in a pot of soil and water them once a day. They’d be sure to turn into green chilis in a month. He was skeptical about this, but nonetheless he decides to trust the most handsome man he ever met and does as he advises.”

            Genji returned with mugs of tea, one with a stripper pin up on it, and the other one said ‘FUCK I’M AWAKE’ on it. He plopped down next to Hanzo again, smiling gently at the story. He gave them all some tea and Jesse paused to sip.

            “Well did they?”

            “Yup. In a month Ganzo notices little sprouts come up in the soil, and its not long before green chilis sprout too. It’s then that Ganzo realizes that green chilis are just baby red ones,” Jesse grinned. “So Messe was hookin’ you up with not only a good set of green chilies, but a plant that could last Ganzo a long time. Ganzo decides to add it to all his recipes from now on, and the legends were true. Green chili really did go with everythin’.”

            Hanzo slipped over and kissed his cheek. “That was a good story.”

            Jesse turned into him and smiled. “Oh yeah?”

            “Strangely poetic,” Genji commented. “Though it was missing one thing.”

            “Oh, and what’s that?”

            “Ganzo and Messe must have fallen in love, yes?”

            Jesse studied Genji for a long time, oddly touched by that statement. He recalled what he had said a few days ago, and it still stung in a strange way.

_He’d never be enough for Hanzo. He might be making a mistake. This might end up badly. He couldn’t do anything he couldn’t turn back from_ ….

            But, Jesse gave Genji a smile.

            “And they lived happily ever after.”


	12. The World I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack tries desperately to reconnect with Gabriel, but he learns what he truly is.

            The kiss felt like nothing Jack had ever experienced before. An overwhelming cascade of emotion overtook him, from yearning to lust to sadness to love to fear. To feel lips touch again after all these years, he couldn’t help but feel brittle. The sore passage of time had not been kind to either of them, but with it carried a familiarity that felt as though Gabriel had never left him. None of this had ever happened. They were together and together always.

            But then, there was an  _intrusion_. There was no other way to put it. Swabbed amongst the lips and tongue Jack knew so dearly, was something else. Something different. A taste. A subtle movement. A sharp edge. A stray piece of flesh. He felt like he was kissing so much of Gabriel, his old love, the soft man that woke up beside him every morning and turned to kiss the tip of his nose, his resting eyelids, the corner of his mouth…but he was astutely aware that he was kissing Reaper, the murderer. The creature that felt colder than the chill outside, with claws, and teeth, and anger. But there was something else….

            Jack bristled at the feeling, and he did feel it, especially as he fell back into the soft cot and experienced Reaper’s weight hovering over him. No part of their bodies was touching, but Jack nearly struggled to breathe, as something compressed against him. Maybe it was his own body revolting against the prospect of intimacy with the Reaper, though Jack did not struggle to arouse at the thought. He managed a smirk, his eyes flicking up to Reaper’s face, taking him in. As horrifying as it was it was also undeniably alluring.

            “Gabe—”

            “Gabriel is  _gone_ ,” Reaper breathed.

            Jack looked up to him fearlessly. His voice seemed without its typical hollowed echo, though a part of it was still there. Jack reached up and put a hand on the side of his face. He wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down closer, curling his finger into the gap in his jawline and brushing against sharp teeth. He saw Reaper’s tongue shift to taste the blood.

            “Reaper,” Jack challenged him, and Reaper clenched his jaw, pinching his finger even more against sharp teeth. Jack cringed at the pressure and the pain but didn’t pull back. He stared at those gorgeous dark brown eyes, wide and dilated. Reaper winced and released the finger, and Jack pushed it forward to trace his thick bottom lip. Jack felt Reaper’s rumbling growl in his own belly, and he gasped as Reaper pushed down into a rough and passionately kiss. Strong hands wrap around his thin waist and Jack clawed his own up to the wraith’s bulky shoulders. He spread his legs as Reaper pushed his hips down into him. The contact lit Jack’s fire, and he released a heavy grumbling moan. A clawed hand traced upward inside his thigh, over his knee and under it, before gently shifting his leg a bit wider.

            Jack grinned, definitely recognizing that move. He’d have to try one of his own. Jack opened his mouth wider and inhaled deeply, waiting for Reaper’s tongue to join in. He closed his plump lips around the thick muscle, and held it hostage for a brief moment, before slipping his head back and allowing his tongue to pull away. He gave him a deep creased grin, and he watched as Reaper flicked him a smile. They caught their breath, staring at one another.

            “You gunna fuck me with that jacket on?” Jack asked with a harsh smirk, his hands moving to push it from his shoulders.

            Reaper didn’t reply.

            Jack’s smile faded. “Whatever it is… I’m okay…”

            “You can’t  _be_ ….”

            “You don’t know that.”

            Reaper pushed up off the bed and released a seething growl. “I forgot how thick of a head you  _have_. So  _rigid_. So  _predictable_. So, bound by one thought and one  _vision_. You want Gabriel, but you can’t have  _him_. It can’t be the way things  _were_ ….”

            Jack sat up in the cot and frowned, studying Reaper’s form. He had to admit that he was probably right. He was clinging on to the memory of him, and the way he approached this creature as an intrusion while working to rekindle every scrap and motion that reminded him of Gabe....

            It wasn’t fair to either of them.

            “I know. But I still love you,” Jack said.

            “You don’t know what that love  _looks like_ ,” Reaper challenged him, drifting to the fireplace and crouching down in front of it slowly. His smoke seemed to waft upward in response to the heat.

            “I guess neither of us do,” Jack said, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He struggled to gather the strength to stand, but managed, moving to the dark cloaked figure and dropping to his knees. He put a hand on his arm, his back, his leg. “Talk to me.”

            Reaper turned to look at him, before lowering his legs fully to the ground and leaning into Jack. Jack slipped an arm around him and to the back of his neck.

            “I don’t  _exist, Jack_. I don’t belong  _here._ I am  _manifestation_. I am a world of nothing but  _darkness_. I am a world where I can consume the only thing that sates  _me_.”

            “What is that?” Jack asked.

            “ _Death_.”

            “You…consume death?” Jack asked, confused.

            “ _Souls_.

            “Souls…” Jack repeated skeptically.

            “It doesn’t have a  _damn name_. But when I kill, I can  _eat_   _it_.”

            Jack studied him for a long moment before looking to the fire, processing what he was being told _._ He did not understand his words – he was a  _world_? He didn’t  _belong_? Jack couldn’t imagine it, and he could tell Reaper was struggling to find the words to describe what had happened to him, what was still happening to him.

            “You’ve no idea the hunger I feel Jack…you cannot  _comprehend_ …”

            “Then make me,” Jack said, though he feared his own words the minute he spoke them. Jack’s eyes drifted to the window in the kitchen, watching as snow fell outside. His car would be buried. He knew he was running out of time to leave, but for some reason, his mind or body could not give him the urgency to escape. He was where he was supposed to be.

            “You do not want  _this_.”

            “Show me, Reaper. Make me understand, make me feel like you feel. I know you can. Someone has to and I’m telling you now that you don’t have to be alone anymore, and neither do I. If there is such thing as a soul, then you know its tied to yours. Just like you used to write in those cheesy poems of yours. Remember?" 

            “Our souls in kind on twine between us," Reaper recited, the way he always had. "I can show  _you._ ” He carefully stood in his place, looking down to Jack as he still sat there. Jack wasn’t sure he had the strength to stand with him. He stared at the fire, pushing his hands forward to warm his fingertips, and he eyed the blood dripping down from where he cut his finger on Reaper’s teeth. He didn’t mind the pain. Never quite did. Maybe that was what made him a good soldier.

            He was watched the blood drip down from his finger to the crux of his thumb. His vision narrowed. The bright red liquid rippled and darkened, turning to a glistening oil. Jack brought his finger to his thumb to rub the blood and smear the morphing liquid, confused but not yet startled. That was until the blood trails turned to tendrils of smoke and began to consume his hand and wrap around his wrist.

            “Whataya…?” Jack choked out, pulling his arm away from his body as if that would help. But then he noticed his other arm too was being swallowed in black tendrils. “Gabe….”

            “I told you, Jack…Gabe is  _gone_ ….”

           

            Jack opened his eyes, and he could feel the warmth of the fireplace, the coolness of the wooden floor. He could smell the musty cabin, and if he focused he could remember it, almost see it. But where he was now…it didn’t seem real. A thick smoke surrounded him, and he felt  _him_. Rivers of black sludge flowed underneath him yet did not carry him away. He was both swallowed by them, and protected, and as he tried to move he made ripples in the slick.

            “Where am I?” Jack called out, having a feeling that Reaper was there with him.

            “Wrong  _question_ ,” Reaper’s voice echoed in the darkness.

            Jack saw Reaper’s form shift before him, though it wasn’t a form he was used to seeing. It was large, thick, and overbearing. The figure of a man overfed. The more he moved, the more Jack could see, and feel the weight of him, pushing him to lay on his back. Jack recognized this feeling; when they were in bed together, he felt his heft upon him without seeing it, but he could see it now, and it only became clearer as he began to touch him.

            Jack ran his hands to his shoulders, feeling thick skin ripple. His hand moved to a padded throat and soft chest. He trailed down the side of a large folding belly, and curl around his back. He saw Reaper’s dark form shift and lower further against him, and Jack gasped at the pressure. He thought he understood now, feeling the hunger and longing seep deep into his chest, simply by seeing this. Seeing him. His perception somehow consumed by him, the rivers of black, and the smoky air. He wasn’t anywhere. He could just see what others couldn’t. Jack pulled him into another soft kiss, and he did not feel the intrusion anymore. His heart was pounding, and all he felt was a longing. Reaper was mistaken. Gabe was not gone. Gabe was  _this_ , and  _this_ was okay.

            “This is who you are,” Jack began gently.

            “I am  _hunger_. I am  _gluttony_. I am  _hideous_."

            “No, Gabriel,” Jack started, his hands curling around his large body, grabbing his shoulders, his back, his arms, his stomach. “You’re beautiful.”

            He heard a rough and hissing growl before suddenly, the world Jack knew returned to him. The weight lifted, and Jack gasped for breath. He was alone, and tears sprung to his eyes. He sat up and looked to his hands, the blood still red and flowing. Jack’s eyes darted around the cabin, and he panted in panic.

            “Gabe?” he asked the air. “Gabriel!”

            Jack pushed to his feet, but he stumbled forward, feeling a sharp pain in his stomach. He was  _starving_. He curled his fingers angrily into his flat belly, wondering if he had been laying there for weeks without eating, or if it had been minutes.

             _Then make me…._


	13. We've Got Time For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy time, that is.

            Jesse slipped into the bathroom with the change of clothes and stripped his gear carefully. He looked at his large bruises from the crash and rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t realized how sore he was. He sat on the lid of the toilet and inspected his blistered feet and chaffed thighs. All that walking had done a number on him. Come to think of it, this  _was_  his first mission since putting on a near seventy pounds. He couldn’t roll or move the way he used to, but he was sure glad for the weight when it came to fending off the cold, and he hadn’t been as hungry and miserable as Hanzo had gotten.

            Jesse got up and inspected his beard in the mirror, thinking of how he was going to manage the growth. It had gotten far out of control. Mad had to have some trimmers and a razor, somewhere right? He paused though, leaning back, looking at his body in the mirror. His hairy chest was strong and muscular, though it was starting to fill out and slump over his growing gut. It had gotten to the point where he was losing the rib ridge, his stomach rounding out to the point where everything looked softened. He paused and flexed his arm, seeing the muscle bulge forward, but it wasn’t as defined as before. He still had it, Jesse was sure, but it was cushioned now.

            Jesse didn’t want to be ‘that’ guy but he was so fascinated by his body that he couldn’t help staring. Everything had changed so quickly, and he had put on so much weight, it wasn’t difficult to remember seeing his that the hips once cradling the small belly were now dwarfed and consumed by it. His thighs had lost their gap. His ass had a hard time sitting snuggly in normal chairs now. There had been a time when his belly was plump that gravity pulled it down. Now, it was like the mound had built its own support system. It was still growing outward, inside of wider though.

            He started the shower and stepped in, letting the warm water wash over his body for a long time before moving to grab some soup. The shower wasn’t large, just an average sized tub built into the wall. Jesse was sure he’d have a hard time taking a bath even if he wanted to soak. He was too long and too wide for it, and it probably wouldn’t be very relaxing at all. But, something better had come along, and Jesse smiled, feeling familiar hands grip his shoulders as they drew back the curtain. He turned his head over his shoulder and saw Hanzo, kissing his back and slipping his hands around his waist and the front of his stomach.

            “I am so  _so_  deeply sorry about this morning,” Hanzo managed. “I am sorry I had gotten so upset. I’m sorry I accidentally pushed you down. I’m sorry I almost killed the bird. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

            “It’s all right, Hanzo. It was all a horrible situation and there was a ninety-nine percent chance I was being a superstitious idiot. Just something Mad taught me a long time ago. Those birds are special.”      

            “I’m glad you were right,” Hanzo whispered.

            “Feeling better?”

            “Thanks to you. You are a blessing, Jesse McCree. So kind and patient. I am beside myself that you are mine.”

            “I’m happy fer ya Hanzo,” Jesse joked.

            “But… I have to ask. Your friend Mad. Who is he exactly?”

            “He was an old mentor from my Deadlock days,” Jesse said. “Mentor, heh, wrong word for it really. Father figure. Bully. All around awful sometimes. But I was the only one he took any care of. I don’t know why. He’s responsible for a lot of my life goin’ on the way it did. He tried to shelter me from some of the darker stuff. The uh… the rape, the torture, in particular. He’s not all bad. He ain’t no angel, but he ain’t the worst of it.”

            “I suppose we have him to thank for a lot of things,” Hanzo said sincerely.

            Jesse smiled and nodded. “Yeah, yer right. He seems happy now. Mellow.”

            He paused, watching Hanzo take the soap from him and began to lather up the cowboy’s plump body, starting around his neck and arms, and circling his chest, slipping the bar underneath the folds of his breasts and carefully around the front of his large belly. Jesse smiled a little and leaned in to kiss him as Hanzo spread his fingers along his soapy skin. Jesse did some feeling around of his own, sneaking gently hands to feel plumping thighs and a thick ass. Such changes excited him, and he wondered if Hanzo would notice himself.

            “I’m going into town with Mad…but we have some time,” he whispered.  

            “I was hoping you’d say that,” Hanzo said, slipping his hands to the bottom of his belly, and lifting the mound in his strong fingers, slipping the bar of soap underneath. Jesse purred and grabbed Hanzo, pulling him into a strong kiss. That was it. He couldn’t take it anymore.

            “You think Mad has any lubricant?” he asked, mostly in a joking tone.

            Hanzo chuckled and slipped part way out of the shower, before he returned and shook a bottle of olive oil, cocking it against his fingers.

            “Olive oil? Really?”

            “It had been used in Ancient Greece for centuries,” Hanzo said simply.

            “You learn that from the book yer readin'?” Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t remember anal sex being mentioned in  _The Odyssey_.”

            “My mind wandered.”

            “’Course it did.”

 

            “So how ya wanna do this?”

            Jesse watched as Hanzo shifted and eyed the layout of the shower.

            “Well let’s just…”

            He stepped closer and Jesse wrapped his arms around his back. He pushed him against the wall as Hanzo backed up, and he tried to lift his leg around Jesse’s waist. That was how they normally did the shower deed. But Jesse could tell this wasn’t going to work. He shifted and lifted is gut a bit, as if that would close that gap between them, but Hanzo’s heel slipped and Jesse caught him before he fell.

            “Dangerous,” Hanzo breathed. “How about?”

            He turned around and pressed his chest against the shower wall. “Yeah that’ll work,” Jesse said, putting a foot up on the corner ledge of the tub and taking the time to slather the olive oil around himself and inside Hanzo. He took a breath and grabbed his hips, pulling him back to him. Jesse tried to lean over and prop himself up, but there was nothing to grab on to, and once again, his belly was making things difficult. Traction and handling in the shower was the most important thing, and there was not much around to help them out.

            “If you just—”

            “I’m tryin’.”

            “What if I shift?”

            “Almost, maybe a little more?”

            “This?”

            “Try movin’ your leg a little more like—”

            “It does not go that way!”

            “Sorry, sorry, I’m just tryna get around—I’m too fat for this!”

            “No no no no no no,” Hanzo purred sweetly.

            Hanzo turned around to face him again, pulling him into a deep kiss, as if to renew the situation. Jesse didn’t mind, he was buying time to think about the leverage of it all. He could tell Hanzo was doing the same, though he peeled back to give his hair a quick wash.

_Two fifty-nine_.

            That was the number he had conjured in his head, but it had been a bit since he had a check-up with Mercy. Jesse remembered noticing every five pounds he put on, but his weight now was a mystery. It was clear now he wasn’t the two fifty-nine of the past, because it hadn’t been this difficult before Hanzo left on his ‘errands’ for two weeks.

            “What if I lean over the edge of the tub? Half way out of it. I can balance myself on the ledge.”

            “Oh, that’s hot,” Jesse said, though it was clear his tone was dripping in sarcasm. “You’d be half outta the shower.”

            “I  _do not_  care at this point.”

            “Well let’s give it a try.”

             Hanzo turned his back to him and bent over, pulling a towel on the edge of the tub near the corner. Then he wrapped his hands around the towel, positioning one of his feet up on the edge as well. Jesse gazed along his backside to those lovely plump ass cheeks and grinned as Hanzo perched his front end low and turned his head to peek behind him.

            “Better?”

            “Oh, that’ll do  _fine_ ,” Jesse drawled out like tires rolling over gravel. He took more olive oil and slathered his hands, before renewing the proper preparations. It was a bit unfortunate, but he didn’t take the time to tease or play. Hanzo seemed to understand that contract, positioning himself for receiving more than anything else. Jesse grabbed his legs with firm hands, spread his cheeks and brushed his erect cock against the entrance. He waited for Hanzo’s buttery moan before Jesse cautiously tested the validity of the olive oil. It wasn’t as slick as the stuff they had at home, but it would do its job. He’d go gently on Hanzo.

            Jesse lifted his leg next to Hanzo’s and held his waist, pushing in a bit deeper and letting Hanzo thrust back on him as he pleased. The two of them hovered in place before Jesse’s body urged him to start moving. He released a soft moan as he did so. They’d be quick and quiet. The shower water pounded on Jesse’s back and side, but it felt great. Since the water pressure wasn’t fantastic, big globs of water massaged his shoulders and sore lower back. But then the problem loomed its head again. It hadn’t been more than three weeks since he’d been with Hanzo, but his gut was in the way,  _even more so_  than he was used to. He pushed it up to drape over Hanzo’s back, letting gravity do its graces, letting his belly spill over and hang where it wanted.

            Hanzo rumbled guttural moans and pushed back further against him. Jesse shifted his grip and pounded in deeper, watching what he could see of Hanzo’s thick thighs and voluptuous ass ripple underneath his large belly. Hanzo covered his mouth and they both breathed heavily, and Jesse tried to bend over him more to get a better grip, but dammit, his gut was in his way. Hanzo pushed his chest down further and curled his back, sensing the awkward positioning.

            “Oh Jesse….”

            “Hanzo,” Jesse rumbled deep, feeling his body pulsing and urging him to release. The pressure was intense, and his heart was racing. The hot water thankfully turned cold as he started to sweat, soap slathered bodies slipping over each other. The smell of olive oil wafted into his nose. He saw Hanzo’s fingers and toes curl and Jesse breathed deeply, darkly, snorting through his nose and through his teeth. However, Hanzo pulled away, and Jesse slipped his cock out. Jesse whined in frustration. He was doing the best he could, but if Hanzo wasn’t into it, then they’d have to think of something else. To his surprise, the reason he gave wasn’t the reason he’d thought it’d be.

            “I just want to see you,” Hanzo breathed, pulling him into a kiss, shaking and heaving, his cheeks flushed rosey. Jesse nodded emphatically, feeling his chest swell in the love and innocence this man had sometimes. He wrapped his arms underneath his thighs and ass and lifted him up, so his back against the wall. Hanzo pushed is elbow in the corner of the shower, and his other arm reached over to grab the towel rack just outside. Jesse gasped as Hanzo curled himself and lowered down on to him again, his thickening thighs wrapping around his belly, his own cock rubbing sensually against the mound they both worshipped. Jesse thrusted vigorously, not wasting time to build their momentum again. He watched in awe as Hanzo’s plump belly bounced, and his chest collapsed before drawing another harsh and full breath.

            Being with Hanzo, even just for a little while, was something Jesse never thought he’d get used to. He loved the man, but he was so incredibly different from his previous thirty-seven years of sex. He’d been a bit shy in their first couple of months, and Hanzo’s library of sexual release was ever vast and unfathomable. For a man that had only slept with one other person in twenty years, Hanzo was so intensely aware of his body and his desires, Jesse couldn’t help but be jealous of it. Every movement he enjoyed was precise and deliberate. His hands always worked like prying tendrils, seeking out the most pleasurable places. Jesse wanted to be like Hanzo, he thought. He wanted to feel, touch, explore, and navigate like Hanzo. He wanted to master his body like Hanzo.

            Jesse then realized things always worked better when he accepted his body instead of fighting it. It was an adjustment, whatever his new weight was, but he could harness his heft to give them the most pleasure possible. So, Jesse pushed forward, and Hanzo’s body curled around him. He managed one passionate kiss, pausing in this moment. Their eyes met, their mouths slacked, their lips pursed. Jesse pushed in even closer, his arms shaking from the strain of holding Hanzo’s body weight. But, he eased his grip and with deliberate motion, used the pressure from his belly to give himself and Hanzo the tiniest bit of extra leverage they needed. Jesse wished they had been doing this the entire time, but his gut became a plushy springboard, providing Jesse with a rhythm he could master. He felt Hanzo’s cock tighten and his anus clench around him. That sent shivers down Jesse’s spine. They both moaned harshly and deeply, forgetting their will to keep quiet. He couldn’t hold himself any longer, spilling his cum deep inside. Hanzo gasped, grabbing himself as he finished at nearly the same time, cum spraying upward on his belly, chest, and even his neck.

            Jesse felt weak in the knees, Hanzo grabbed his shoulders and clung on, regaining his height when he landed on his feet. They tried desperately to catch their breath. Jesse held him in his large arms and against his plump body, pulling him into a desperate kiss as the cold water washed off the soap, sweat, and cum. He felt Hanzo reach down and grab his wide stomach with a grin.

            “You harness your body well, and mine,” Hanzo huffed, pushing his head into his chest.

            “Yeah well, I gotta harness my appetite or I’ll be too big to do what we just did.” Jesse panted, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

            Hanzo chuckled and slipped his hands over his plump belly. “We’ll always find a better way.”


	14. It Wasn't Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse learns something disturbing from Mad on his way into town. Hanzo finally confronts Genji's warning.

            Jesse got dressed in some of Mad’s old clothes, though he felt rather uncomfortable. They were two sizes too small. Mad was a big guy, but Jesse felt terrible he was stretching out one of his t-shirts, even though Mad said he would use it for a goal for the future. His serape did well to cover him up at least though, and he settled comfortably in his tactical pants without his chaps. He did his best to tuck in the t-shirt, though his big belly was front and center, and unobscured by flannel patterns.

            Jesse got into the passenger side of the trick and relaxed in the seat, pulling the seatbelt over him. He heard Mad snort as he got in.

            “A seatbelt? Really?”

            “Safety first,” Jesse drawled.

            “Fuckin’ vanilla,” Mad murmured, starting his truck and driving down the dirt and into just dirt. Jesse didn’t see any road or tire marks nearby at all. Seemed like Mad didn’t get out much, and he knew the way to go by heart. “The man who took you in. He beat that into you? Rules, regulations. How to be a hero?”

            Jesse glanced over. “Reyes? Sorta,” Jesse admitted. “He did a lot of things…”

            “Sensitive subject?” Mad asked. He must have heard Jesse’s tone fall off a cliff.

            “A bit.”

            “Don’ tell me he turned out to be an asshole.”

            “Worse.”

            “Worse than an asshole?”

            Jesse frowned and looked over. “Reyes started working for Talon,” he said. “After something horrible happened to him. He turned into a monster. A shadow. He’s a part of this, whoever kidnapped my friends. I just know it.”

            Mad was quiet for a moment. “Yeah well. He sounds like a _fucking_ asshole.

            “Good distinction,” Jesse teased before snorting and wiping his nose on his hand. “Hell, I coulda been kidnapped too if….” Jesse tapered off, staring out the window as the truck jostled and rolled over the dirt.

            “McCree?”

            “Uhm…Jack’s double didn’t want me to come on the mission. He coulda easily brought me out here with the others. I could have geared up. He stopped me. Called me too fat, I guess. Was pretty brutal about it.”

            “Sounds like someone didn’t want you out here.”

            “Why though?” Jesse asked.

            Mad settled back and thought for a moment. “Maybe ‘cause you were involved with Deadlock. What else is out here?”

            “Desert and death,” Jesse murmured.

            “Desert and death,” Mad repeated the mantra. “Exactly.”

             Jesse swallowed and inhaled deeply through his nose. Jack’s clone picked the one thing he knew would bother him the most. He was damn insistent on Jesse not joining him and there was no way he could have. Their plane was tracked mid-flight, assaulted, shot down – not easy to do. Maybe Clone-Jack planted a transmitter of some type on the craft, knowing that he’d spring to action. Trying to get a head start without him. Whatever force was working against them, Jesse had a feeling he was the target of it all.

            “I got no ties to Deadlock. Me bein’ here is inconsequential. Don’t get it.”

            “You got ties to me,” Mad said.

            “You ain’t in Deadlock no more.”

            “Did I ever say that?” Mad asked with a smirk.

            “I just assumed. You had your house. You said you were going to retire—”

            “I got a house ‘cause I’m a fuckin’ king, McCree. Reyes is only man out there that knows about me and you. He’s the only one that knows that you’re the only one that that could make me pull out of a deal. You said he’s a shadow? I got a feelin’ I know who you’re talkin’ about. Had no idea that was him.”

            Jesse looked over, his expression stiffening. He felt his entire body raptured in this dread of Mad’s admission.

            “What deal did you make, Mad?”

            Mad shook his head and pulled out a cigarillo, offering one to Jesse, before lighting his own.

 

            Hanzo sat on the window bench by the kitchen, watching the snow gather outside. He could feel the chill of the cold air seeping through the window, and he missed the serape already. It smelled like Jesse, and it gave him comfort. The only thing keeping him warm now was the green chili chicken stew he was slurping up. His sixth bowl for today, even after his little stomach upset, he was getting used to it. The green chili had been endeared to him, thanks to Jesse’s story. He wanted to do anything to remind himself of it. Jesse’s friend Mad had kept the pot heated and was making another, thankfully.

            Hanzo was letting his hair dry in a tie, pulled tightly. He still felt exhausted, too exhausted to groom himself properly, but at least he was tired _and_ satisfied. He took another slurp of stew, slowly deciding as his stomach stuffed with thick spice and fresh chicken, that this was indeed the best thing he had ever eaten.

            Hanzo curled his foot underneath him as he felt a sharp poke.

            “Stop, bird,” he demanded.

            The roadrunner was apparently set on harassing him, probably because Hanzo was sitting in her spot.

            “Shoo,” Hanzo waved his hand and she seemed to puff up and snap at him. Hanzo growled and flexed his arm, light blue waves of energy splashing along his arm as the dragon spirit within him stirred. The roadrunner immediately flew away to land on the kitchen table, nervously eyeing Hanzo from a distance.

            “Hmm.”

            “I’ve never seen you summon them so frivolously before,” a soft voice said. Genji padded into the room and walked over to the stove, grabbing a bowl of stew himself. “Genji don’t play with the spirit dragon, Genji it is not your friend, Genji stop making it do tricks, it is not a dog.”

            Hanzo snorted harshly, his nostrils flaring. “Your impression of me is awful, brother.”

            “ _Anija_ , my impression of you is perfect,” Genji said, plopping on the window bench, pulling his legs up and turning to face him. “Glad you are feeling better.”

            “Thank you,” Hanzo said.

            “Well enough to have sex, or so I heard.”

            “How on earth did you hear anything? We were very quiet.”

            “You _always_ think you are quiet Hanzo. When you were dating Kaito I spent many nights with a pillow over my head as he snuck into our room. Between the bed creaking under your combined five hundred pounds and your moaning, it might as well have been an earthquake.”

            “You are one to talk. There was always someone in your bed.”

            “I never claimed to be quiet,” Genji gave Hanzo a big grin, and Hanzo rolled his eyes.

             He smiled though and shook his head, settling in to eat his stew. He wondered if he could talk to his brother about it or not. He knew Genji knew about Jesse and him, obviously. He couldn’t imagine it now if he hadn’t. Hanzo had grown careless about his affections, in front of Jack, in front of his brother. He looked to Genji and his scarred face, saddened by it, even if the green hair made him look so young again.

            “I’ve never been happier,” Hanzo whispered. “Jesse is…remarkable. Beyond my deserving of it. I love him in words that do not exist.”

            Hanzo smiled at Genji but noticed that his brother’s smirk was thinner than he would have hoped it would be. He was disappointed. So much for sharing.

            “I know you do not approve. Jesse told me you said some foul things about me to him.”

            “Foul? His words or yours?”

            “I do not know what you said to him. He said he couldn’t repeat it. You hurt him.”

            Genji was quiet for a long moment, and Hanzo felt it necessary not to let this conversation slip them by. He wanted to set it straight, behind them. He wanted Genji to understand how much he had changed.

            “That was not my intention. I was trying to protect him.”

            “From _me_?”

            “Yes,” Genji said firmly, though there was a speck of hesitation. “From you. Because you have created his body with your hunger, not his… and it is painful for me to watch him fall into the trap I’ve seen you lay before.”

            Hanzo snarled and glared. “How _dare_ you!”

            “You seem to forget that I have known him longer than you. A decade. You have known him for months.”

            “So, you are jealous of us then, is that it?” Hanzo snapped.

            “You would default to such a petty accusation,” Genji said. “I worry about him. I worry about the weight he is putting on for you. I am worried about the sacrifices he is making for you. I worry about your hunger, and how insatiable it is. You could not even stop yourself from forcing Jack—”

            “You were not there. I did nothing to—”

            “But!” Genji interrupted. “Jesse has never shown an interest in this before, Hanzo. I am not sure how you convinced him to play this game of yours; he is obsessed with your satisfaction. Yet, I do not know what you have sacrificed for him. There is no end in sight. When will he be enough for you? If he reaches three hundred pounds? Four hundred? When his health becomes a concern, will the axis of your relationship fall to the wayside? Will you move on, leaving Jesse bloated, sick, and forgotten? I wanted Jesse to think about these things, because I know him, and I know you.”

            Hanzo’s anger spiked beyond his comprehension.

            “He’s my best friend Hanzo. I love him too.”

            And the anger faded instantly. Hanzo sat there, Genji’s words ringing in his ears and for the first time he forced himself to look Genji in the eyes. They were bright, sad, and brimming with fear and tears. There was no maliciousness behind his words. There was no contestation. Genji did know Jesse for a long time. Genji did sacrifice for Jesse and help him become the man he was today. The man that Hanzo loved so profoundly, that it made his heart ache to think that anyone could doubt it. Hanzo looked down and dragged a hand roughly over the top of his head.

            “Genji, if you love him, if you love me, do not warn him against me, _help me_ be better for him,” Hanzo pleaded, rushing forward to take his hands in his. “I love Jesse with all of my spirit and being, and sometimes I get lost in it, in how we show it. Jesse deserves the best, and I have every reason to fear that it is _I_ who will never be enough.”

            With trembling hands Hanzo grabbed at his sake jug strapped to his waist. He struggled to open it.

            “Hanzo I’m not sure that now is the time—”

            “Shh,” Hanzo managed, before he pried the top off. He shook it, and something rattled inside, before he cupped his hand and dumped its precious treasure. He grabbed Genji’s palm and placed the object in the center of it. It was a large silver ring, engraved handsomely with thin gold lines, and a single, inlaid sapphire.

            “Hanzo, this is…”

            “I know. I had to break into the Shimada castle to retrieve it. That is where I was, for two weeks. Hanamura. I severed my ties with my criminal past, collected my funds, and abandoned the empire once and for all.”

            “ _Anija_ ….”

            “Genji, I need your help to make this happen. My life will forever be devoted to Jesse McCree, if he chooses to say yes.”


	15. The Last Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad takes Young Jesse McCree out to a big lunch and confesses his fears.  
> Jesse gets in contact with Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! had to do some planning before I roll out the last batch of chapters. Enjoy the PNR.

            “What are we doin’ back here?” Young Jesse McCree asked. He studied the diner where he had extorted Harold out of his retirement check. “We collectin’?”

            “No, Deadeye, we’re having lunch,” Mad said, albeit in a sour way. He’d been like this for days and Jesse didn’t know what was wrong with the man. He always had some sort of humor to the edge of his words, but he’d been flat and tired for a week now. It probably had to do with the big train heist they had been planning for months. The heist was tomorrow, and Jesse was both nervous and excited. His first big job with the big guys. No more shooting cans off a fence, he was being taken seriously, and even had a reputation.

            Deadeye was his new name, and he thought it made him sound like a badass. Mad had made sure to give him a good one, it seemed. The more they spent time together, the more he realized that Mad was turning into a friend more than a mentor. He hadn’t been in Deadlock for long, but no one much bothered Jesse Deadeye McCree, especially when Mad was around. No one said he didn’t earn his way up the ladder, but he had it easier because of his talent and Mad, and he was thankful. Even if Mad tended to rough him up or break a bone here or there. He took the pain and injury, wondering if it was a show to protect him from scrutiny. Some people even thought Jesse had it bad.

            “I don’t get it. Will they serve us?”

            “Listen, kid, this place is owned by Deadlock, Harold is one of us. That was just a test to get a sense of your grit and how well you do under pressure.”

            Jesse was shocked to hear that, but that shock turned to excitement as he rushed up to the counter to look over the menu. He grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet.

            “Get anything you want kid,” Mad told him. “And as much as you want. You need to put on some weight, you’re like a twig.”

            Jesse laughed, not thinking he was that bad, but he wasn’t about to argue, ordering three burgers and a chicken sandwich, fries, onion rings, a shake, and a couple of cookies. He was _starved,_ and he never got to eat much back at the warehouse. Just cans of beans he managed to steal from the stores. Mad ordered just about the same amount, but got a cola instead, taking off his large cowboy hat and pulling some cash out from the band on the inside, paying easily. Jesse plopped down at the table in the back like last time and drummed his fingers on the table. Mad joined him with the food when it was made, and sat down, grabbing a basket with his green chili burgers and taking a massive bite.

            Jesse followed, having gotten more of a mixture than Mad’s green chili burgers. Jesse ordered a normal cheese burger, a blue cheese and bacon burger, and a double bacon cheese burger. The chicken sandwich had bacon and ranch on it as well. Jesse took on the blue cheese and bacon burger first, the gorgeous sauces and cheese mixing together in goopy, oozy delight. He used fries to scoop up and extra sauce that was dripping into the basket.

            “Seems like my eyes were too big for my stomach,” he admitted. “I’m already full.”

            Mad snorted. “This food better not go to waste kid. You ordered it, you eat it. Besides, you need to stretch out that stomach of yours or you ain’t ever gunna pack on the pounds. You gotta grow up big and strong, cause Deadlock aint’ got no room for scrawny do-nothin’s.”

            Jesse frowned, looking at Mad’s expression as he bit into his second burger. He was mostly hiding under his hat today – usually he was polite enough to take it off when he entered buildings. Mad paused to pull out a cigarillo and handed a lit one to Jesse. Jesse had gotten addicted to the things pretty quick and sharing one had been the first time Mad had actually smiled at him. They always bonded over a nice calm smoke. Mad would give him candid talks. Talk about things that bothered him in Deadlock. Jesse almost thought he’d turn a bit too soft, before he did something hard, like smack him over the back of his head or push him into the dirt. It didn’t hurt anymore though.

            Jesse set to his meal not wanting to waste any like Mad had warned him, only pausing to mix his bites with inhales from his rich cigarillo He took a bite of the bacon cheese burger, before grabbing the ketchup and drowning the meat in it. Mad muttered something of a disapproval but didn’t say anything audible – Jesse suspected it was because he’d rather him ‘ruin it’ and eat it than not eat it at all. So, he stuffed the second burger into his mouth, and picked up the third. Jesse already felt a little sick. He shifted a bit and looked to Mad, who already seemed done, lazily munching on fries. ‘Course, he had a lot more room in that gut of his.       

            “I’m really full, though,” Jesse said.

            “Come on, kid. Unhook that belt and pack it in.”

            Jesse nodded and unclasped his belt. He looked down at his stomach, amazed to see how bloated it had gotten from all the fries and two huge burgers. He liked the look of it, and he pushed it out against his shirt, watching as the shirt untucked from his pants. He gave himself a soft laugh. It was pretty small still, since he was a skinny thing, but it was fun to see. He started on the onion rings next, shoving them in his mouth greedily. He felt his pants button slip undone, and he put a hand on his growing stomach, almost sensing it push further against his palm as he ate.

            “Someday I’m gunna retire, get an old adobe out in the middle of nowhere. That’s the dream, Jesse,” Mad said.  

            Jesse shoved the normal burger into his mouth and ate quickly as if he was afraid his stomach would stop him. He paused and looked up to Mad though, pausing to rub his stomach as he picked up the chicken sandwich.

            “You? Retire? Can’t see it.”

            Mad gave him a tight grimace. Jesse paused before taking the bite. He was disappointed in the chicken. He should have gotten another burger.

            “Tomorrow’s heist. It’s gunna be a big one, you know,” Mad said. “Overwatch is probably going to get involved. They’ve been closin’ in. Killing our men. For a group of heroes that think they’re all good and shit, they sure do kill a lot of people.”

            "We’re the bad guys, how it works,” Jesse supposed.

            “You’re not a bad guy, kid,” Mad said. “You don’t belong with Deadlock. Neither do I.”

            Jesse tensed at the comment and finished his sandwich before taking on the shake and cookies. That was pretty easy to do because it tasted so damn good. He felt _really_ stuffed now. He leaned back and rubbed the mound of his food baby, groaning softly as his shirt exposing darkened skin.

            “What you talkin’ about Mad?” Jesse murmured.

            He watched as Mad dipped his head and finally removed his hat, pushing back locks of long brown hair, escaping a loose ponytail.

            “You know we’ll probably die tomorrow.”

            Jesse frowned. “No, we won’t we’ll be fine.”

            “Jesse,” Mad said angrily at his retort. “You better fuckin’ finish your last meal or I’m going to make sure you retch it all.”

            Jesse leaned forward and looked over the carnage of empty baskets, not liking the idea of a last meal. Maybe now he was a bit afraid, and he could sense that Mad could tell that he had stepped too far. He had a few onion rings left, so he stuffed them in his mouth at once and slumped back in the booth to chew them lazily. He made them into a pulp before finding the will to swallow them. He groaned. Mad simply snorted and gave him a smile, which Jesse returned happily.

            “Nice job, kid. That pot belly will serve ya well.”

 

            “Incoming call, Unknown Number. Location, New Mexico,” Athena chimed.

            Jack jolted awake, having fallen asleep in the communications room. The last few days had been hell. Symmetra, Mei, and D.Va, had arrived from Watchpoint Gibraltar and Mercy accompanied them to the location where they had lost contact with McCree and the team. They all feared the worst. Satellites had located the wreckage, and so had Mercy and the others. Jack had stayed behind, still feeling ill from his ordeal, and waiting around in case they got a call. He hated being out of the action, but he was glad he was now.

            He sprung forward and accepted the call.

            “Jesse? Is that you?”

            “ _Jack!_ ”

            “It’s good to hear your voice, kid. What the hell happened?”

            “ _We’re okay, everyone is okay. Our plane was shot down. We were trapped into the desert for days. But listen, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya. It’s really important. I know who kidnapped our Reinhardt, Lena, and Lúcio._ ”

            “Tell me everything.”

 _"Talon hired Deadlock to protect them in the area and do some other shit. Mad said – sorry – Mad Minute. He was my mentor back in the Deadlock days and a good friend. Ran into him in the desert. He saved our lives._ ”

            “Jesse,” Jack said, his tone glaringly unsure.

            “ _Listen. They’re runnin’ experiments on members in Deadlock. You know Dr. Wight’s prototype? That fancy nanotech that was supposed to graft ta muscle and make it strong and indestructible? Well Deadlock agreed to be guinea pigs, and they apparently figured out how it works._ ”

            “You’re telling me we have a bunch of nanotech boosted Deadlock gang members out there? That doesn’t seem like their modus operandi.”

            “ _Mad said he didn’t want to make the deal, but he made it with Reaper. Said that in exchange for a few bodies and some protection, Talon could make ‘em stronger. Still don’t know what Talon is gettin’ out of all this, but that’s the damn mystery ain’t it? Good news is, Mad knows they’re running the experiments out here so he’s pretty sure he knows where the team is bein’ held. We don’t got the whole story yet, but dammit, Talon is up to some freaky shit, and we just gotta get our friends to safety_. _Infiltrating Deadlock territory ain’t gunna be easy, but you know I’m your man._ ”

            “You’re right about that, but are you sure you can trust him?”

            “ _Jack, I ain’t been more sure about nothin’ in my life. He says he has a shit ton of cash comin’ in from Dr. Wight’s rich ass and Talon_ _to worry about goin’ sideways on. No one else in Deadlock would sacrifice that, not for this, and not for me. We seem to think that’s why the clone of you didn’t want me around. Cause Mad would pull the plug right fast if I wanted it, and I do, so he is._ _Reaper must have told your clone about me and him, cause why else would he have stopped me from comin’?_ ”

            Jack’s blood ran cold and he fought off the chill. After everything that happened between Reaper and him in the two weeks, alongside the mystery of his clone, and his stolen blood, well. This was becoming a bit too personal, and more than coincidental. Whatever this was, it must have been connected in some way.

            “You’ve got a point. Good work, Jesse. Send me your coordinates. Mercy, D.Va, Sym, and Mei are out looking for you. They’ll help get the job done.”

            “ _That’s good news. I’ll send them to Mad’s house. We’ll meet up there and come up with a plan._ ”

            “Acknowledged,” Jack said. “I’ll do my best to join you, but I might come in a bit later.”

            “ _You sure that’s a good idea?_ ”

            “Yes, I’m fine.”

            “ _Well just make sure you darken that mark on your forehead. If we run into your clone I really don’t want to shoot you by mistake_.”

            Jack blinked and growled. “That’s why you wrote FAT GUY on my forehead?! Jesse you’re—you’re….” he sighed. “A fuckin’ genius.”

            “ _I have my moments. See ya soon, Jack_.”

            “Stay frosty, kid.”


	16. The Things We Endure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack endures the hunger Reaper feels, and discovers what he has to do to sate it.

            Jack felt like he was going to waste away, and he had never felt such intense hunger in his life. Was this what Reaper felt? Was this what he experienced? It was difficult to imagine, seeing his true form and figure, that the creature was going hungry. The way he spoke led him to believe he was starving, but Jack felt the weight of the larger being on him. He felt the folds of his skin and the softness he had accumulated. Jack was not about to call this weight ‘fat’ – it wasn’t quite like that. It was a presence more like. An abundance.

            Yet Reaper continued on about his hunger, and now Jack felt it in its own abundance, and had every reason to believe he was telling the truth. And, worse of all, he was alone in it. The snow was starting to fall heavily now, and Jack slipped on his jacket, visor, and gloves, before grabbing his rifle. He pushed out the door, knowing he had to leave this place to find something to eat. His heart was pounding beyond words, and the pain in his gut unbearable. Jack had no choice but to try and make it back to the car. He cut a new path, pushing through the snow as hard as he could.

            Jack made it back to the car and started it, sitting inside for five minutes while it heated the exterior and melted the snow. He clutched his stomach and panted.

            “Oh…god,” he managed. He closed his eyes tight and banged his palm repeatedly into the steering wheel, the horn blaring. The noise was distracting for a microsecond of relief, before Jack started the car and floored the pedal, zooming off on the snow-covered roads. He drove for what seemed to be close to an hour, before he found the nearest town. He nearly drove into a couple cars as he wheeled into the parking lot of the nearest diner. Jack grabbed his rifle, and pushed out of the car, sprinting through the front door. However irrational it was to his mind, his body, his instinct, took over. He pushed in past the waitress – he heard her screaming as he raised his rifle along the room, making a show of it rather than aiming at anyone.

            “Everyone get out! NOW!” He screamed, his gravelly voice shattering through the quiet, small town establishment. Families with their kids – _the kids_ _oh god_ – scrambled to get out of their chairs and booths, holding up their hands, crying, screaming, shouting, fleeing. Jack pushed to the table where he spotted the most food, tore off his visor and gloves, and curled his fingers into a stack of pancakes. He shoved the food into his mouth, trying to chew it and swallow it as fast as he could. The pain wasn’t going away. He wasn’t even feeling the food in his stomach, and for the first time in a long time, he was terrified.

            He looked over the table full of other people’s meals. He drank their water, engorged himself on the richness of poutine, bacon, eggs, hash, chicken, fried and grilled. Jack wasn’t sure how long he had been at this, but he was alone now. He heard police sirens in the distance. Not yet, no not yet, he wasn’t feeling full, he wasn’t! Jack stood up and moved to another table, grabbing a warm iced sweet roll and tearing into it with his teeth. He gravitated to another breakfast table and drenched the pancakes in syrup. He packed bacon into a sandwich and devoured it. His taste was beginning to bloom creatively, as he slurped some ice cream and pie with a side of ham and steak.

            A stray hand went to his stomach, and he heard a deep _tump_ sound. Jack was afraid to look down, for his hand had made contact a lot sooner than he had expected. Jack swallowed hard, and willed himself to anyway. His stomach had been stuffed to capacity, and he became painfully aware of the stretched and taut skin, and the new pain that came along with being bound inside his jacket. Jack unzipped it slowly and shed it, and his belly looked like it was a gallon full. He managed to tear off his armor vest next to reveal the grey t-shirt, and a round, plump gut. Jack wanted to throw up as he clutched the tender skin of his stomach. He managed to unhook his belt and grunt in relief, helping his new belly settle into his lap with a careful guiding hand. He couldn’t take another bite, having eaten a meal for six by himself…

            Yet, he still felt _starved_.

            He put his forehead on the table, panting through the pain, wishing he had never come out here, wishing he had never gone searching for the memories of the man he loved, and hoping that he wouldn’t die in a damn small town Canadian diner.

            Jack felt a gently hand slide along his back, sharp points biting along the way.

            “I have forgotten how bad it _was_. Forgive _me,_ ” the echoing voice grumbled deeply, before the presence took a seat beside him.

            “What did you do to me?” Jack panted, holding his stomach and feeling and hearing a deep protesting gurgle.

            “You asked me to show you what it feels _like_. I am afraid this food will not do anything to sake your _hunger_.”

            “Well no shit!” Jack erupted angrily. “Why did you leave me like this? You could have told me! You could have warned me! Before…before this!” Jack looked down at himself and wrapped his arms around his groaning grumbling stomach.

            “I am sorry, _Jack_ ,” Reaper said, reaching over and putting a hand on his stomach. His hand was gentle now as the gauntlet melted away. Jack reflexively curled his arms around his arm and hand, starving for more than food, but for his touch as well.

            “What do I do to fix this?” Jack managed. “Please tell me there is a way to make it stop.”

            Red lights started to flash outside the window – the police where there, and Jack was not looking forward to the mugshot. Reaper sensed the urgency and growled gently, before standing and helping Jack get his armor, jacket, gloves, and visor back on. He seemed unphased by his engorged belly, which was a crippling embarrassment to Jack. Nonetheless, being enveloped in a strangely warm hug and fading along a conduit of black smoke preoccupied his senses and overrode all emotion.

            When he felt the smoke fade, and Jack found himself back at the cabin. He sat down on the bed and huffed, putting a hand on his stuffed stomach. He looked to Reaper expectantly, still waiting for an answer. The cloaked figure studied him, the bone white mask some how softer in Jack’s mind, knowing who was behind it. He carefully reached into his cloak and pulled out a strange looking canister, smooth, black and made of metal. It had the talon symbol on it, scuffed, though bright red.

            “ _Souls_ ….”

            Jack shifted a bit and looked to the cannister, before his eyes flicked back up to him.

            “You can’t be serious.”

            Reaper growled. “You will never _understand_. You will never understand until you’ve lived a day as empty as _I am_. This container holds the soul of a military _doctor_. She saved four hundred and forty-three lives during the Omnic wars yet did not hold any anger in her during the _peace talks_. You see…I keep the good ones on _hand_. They satisfy me for far longer than the _bad ones_.”

            Jack’s stomach twisted at the thought of all this. He couldn’t _truly_ expect him to be all right with that.

            “There’s a difference?” he asked, if only to buy time.

            “ _Yes_. The souls of the good ones, they’re _lighter_. Like _oil_. Colorful and _brilliant_. The ugly ones…the souls of killers…they’re _sludge_. _Black_. _Tar_. They make you sick, they make you _repulsed_. But the good ones, yes, they are _satisfying_ ,” Reaper said, shaking the cannister.

             Jack could identify what was in the cannister as a liquid, at least, that’s what it sounded like. “What was her name?”

            “Doctor Luman _Khan_.

            “Fuck, Gabriel! I knew her!”

             “So did _I_.”

             “You killed her?!”

            “Have you _forgotten_ , _Jack_? It’s who I am _now_.”

            “Is… is that why you joined Talon? So you could kill the good ones? So you could eat the good souls? With us, all that would be available to you are the bad ones.”

             Reaper pulled back and growled softly. “Now you’re getting _it_.”

            “Gabriel,” Jack started. “It doesn’t have to be this way, we can figure out another way.”

            “There is no other _way_. Not for _me_. But you...say the words, _Jack_.  _Back out_ of  _this_.”

            Jack studied the canister still in his hand and then returned his eyes to Reaper. He didn’t know what to do. He had asked him to make him understand – _this was Jack’s request_. He hadn’t known this would be it. His stomach growled painfully, and he clutched it as he sat there, hesitant, and cowardly.

            “Do the bad ones still do the job?”

            “ _Yes_ ….”

            “Give me one of those,” Jack murmured stubbornly. He couldn’t back out now. He couldn’t abandon this quest. This was the first time he’d gotten to speak with Gabriel, learn what he was going through, and come to truly understand what it was that was done to him. He was the only one in Overwatch that knew as much as he did now. At the very least, Gabriel deserved the benefit of the doubt, even if in the end there was no other way, and even if there was no room for them.

            “Are…are you _sure_?” Reaper asked, which Jack pegged his tone as more than surprised. Maybe he wasn’t expecting Jack to agree to this at all. Maybe he expected Jack to abandon him upon learning the truth. 

_Like you did before_.

            “Yes. I can’t eat Doctor Khan – wow words I never expected to say, _fuck_. This is _fucked_ up. But give me one of the bad guys.”

            “You won’t like _it_.”

            “There’s nothing about this to like, is there?”

            Reaper purred softly in thought, before he gave Jack a nod. “Give me _time_. I will _return_. For now…you should  _rest_. That food is not going to sit well with you, _soon_.”      

            Jack grimaced. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

           What the hell was he thinking? He watched as Reaper disappeared before his eyes, leaving him behind once again, but this time with a very grumbly and upset poutine-stuffed stomach. Jack peeled off his jacket and armor again, releasing his stomach from its bond. He leaned back and gripped the edge of the bed, studying his gut as it expanded and contracted with every breath he took, pushing in earnest against the tightness of his t-shirt.

           “Well, you always did joke about lettin’ yourself go,” Jack murmured to the room. That was the only humor he could muster at the moment. He hoped this gesture of trust was going to amount to something. He couldn't muster the thought of it if doing this all amounted to nothing. 

             _The things we endure...._


	17. Blah Blah Blah Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela, Satya, Hana, and Mei meet up with Jesse and the others to discuss their plan of attack and rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found it a challenge to write so many different characters into one scene so I am hoping I did an okay job at it. :) Enjoy

            “There you are, Genji,” Angela said, finishing her patch work on his stomach. Jesse had watched the process, sitting on the couch beside them and puffing on his cigarillo. He was fascinated by the intricacy of the work, and the talented hands of their doctor.

            “Thank you, Doctor Ziegler,” Genji said. “I was not worried about it, but nonetheless I am happy it is resolved.”

            Jesse leaned back on the couch and watched as Mad served green chili chicken to Mei, Satya, and Hana. The three of them were seated at the table, and Jesse could tell that they were tired from searching for days. They seemed in a better way than Hanzo, Jesse, and Genji had been though. He eyed the snow outside, and the jet they flew in, parked in the distance.

            “Thank you,” Satya said, her tone gracious and silky. “Forgive me, but I have not caught your name?”

            “Oh, uh, call me Mad,” Mad said, nodding to her as he placed a bowl in front of her.

            Mei smiled up at him, kicking her legs out under the table. “This smells great!”

            Hana twisted her mouth and swirled the stew around with her spoon for a bit, obviously unsure about the new dish.

            “If ya’ll want something different I can make somethin’ else,” he said.

            “If you are offering, perhaps something without meat?” Satya asked with a confident smile.

            “Oh! Of course, come join me out in the greenhouse, you can choose whatever you’d like, ma’am.” Mad said.

            Jesse got up from the couch after Mad and Satya left the room, and grabbed Satya’s untouched bowl of stew. Mad had pretty much turned into Mr. Polite with all these ladies around. Not that he was trying to flirt, no, he’d never seen Mad flirt with anyone, or even much talk about dating or women (or men) besides to act tough or vulgar. He’d always wondered if Mad had been interested in that sort of thing at all. He’d always been a loner. Jesse on the other hand had been quick to jump around girls like a young mustang. Mad had been a great wingman, at the very least. But, Mad was laying on a different type of hospitality, and Jesse liked seeing this side of him.

            “Eat up, Hana, it’s good. You’ll like it,” Jesse said, hovering around the front of the table by Mei. He adjusted his serape over his shoulders for a moment, having gotten dressed back into his old gear.

            “I guess I’ll have to try,” she agreed with a sigh.

            Jesse chuckled and finished his numberless bowl of stew. He looked to Hanzo who was seated on the window bench, the roadrunner curled up at his feet. It was back to pretending they weren’t dating, and that was the worst part of all this. He just wished they all knew already. He didn’t want to have to hide anymore. Not now. Especially not now.

            Jesse felt a poke in his side, and he looked down to Mei as she grinned up at him, her finger on the side of his belly.

            “I haven’t seen you in awhile, Jesse.”

            “You got _sooooooo_ fat!” Hana said bluntly. “It's cute!”

            “I love it!” Mei said quickly. “I am sorry, I did not mean to point it out. I couldn’t help it.”

            “Thanks Mei. And yeah I’ve put on about…fifty or so pounds.”

            “Seventy,” Angela corrected, still tending to Genji, though it was clear he didn’t much need more taking care of.

            “Hey, don’t be…come on,” Jesse gestured to Angela. He heard Hanzo’s oily laugh by the window as he tried to hide his grin with his fist, down right biting his knuckles.

            “Just because it’s ‘High Noon Somewhere in The World’, doesn’t mean it’s always lunch time, you know.” Hana said.

             “Ha ha,” Jesse said, of course not actually laughing, though he did have a smile on his face.

            “So exactly how many Huckleberries have you been eating?” She doubled down.

            “Okay, get it out of your system—”

            “There must have been a lot of fish in that barrel!”

            “Hana! Stop teasing him!” Mei said.  

            Jesse erupted into a belly laugh. “At least I’m not as big as your fatass mech suit.”

            Jesse could have _sworn_ he heard a soft ‘yet’ coming from Hanzo’s direction, but when he looked up, Hanzo was back to looking out the window, distant and uninterested in mingling with the rest of the group. Mad and Satya returned the room with armfuls of vegetables and fruit, and Mad returned to preparing something vegetarian for Satya.

            “So,” Angela began. It was clear she wanted to get down to business. “Do we have a plan?”

            “Well, Mad and I were talkin’. He discovered that Rein, Lena, and Lúcio are being held at the Deadlock Mines. Back in the day, the mines were notorious for being one of the biggest strongholds of the gang. Good guys were tryin’ to flush out that old mine for decades, but it was like an ant hill. Tunnel after tunnel, and they just couldn’t kill the queen. Or uh, king,” he smirked.

            “That does not sound good,” Satya said, helping Mad slice up the vegetables to make a new kind of dish. Jesse’s old mentor seemed willing to learn a few things, and Satya was gentle in her instruction. She found a pan and spatula. “Where is your olive oil?”

            “Should be down here,” Mad grunted, opening a cabinet by her foot.

             Jesse exchanged glances with Hanzo for a quick moment, not prepared to explain why it was in the bathroom.

            “Anyway! The mines, yeah. They’re a bit of a distance away, but not by much. We’ll take the jet there and drop off at a place Mad said we can lay low. We’ll come up with the plan on the way, and once we’re there.”

            “I’ve no idea how we are going to be able to do this, considering the mine’s fortifications,” Mercy said.

            “Don’t worry Doctor Ziegler, I might have a couple ideas,” Jesse drawled.

 

            Hanzo stepped into the small diner, trailing behind everyone else. They’d taken some pains to get dressed in attire that fit into the small town, but there was no doubt that they still stuck out like a flower on the floor. Mad seemed to think this was a safe place to go, however, and he was happy for it. He could almost feel Jesse’s brimming excitement as pushed up to the counter, and Mad somehow got the other patrons to clear out. Hanzo drifted over and helped push some tables together in the center so everyone could sit down.

            “Used to take Jesse here when he was a kid from time to time,” Mad told Hanzo. “He would order a lot more than he could handle. Wouldn’t make that kid waste a bite.”

            Hanzo cocked his head, dragging a few chairs over. “Curious.”

            “Oh? Well, you best remember Hanzo, the boy needs to eat and you need to take care of him good y’here?”

            Hanzo flushed and his mouth hung open, especially because Mei pushed in another chair next to him.

            “Hanzo taking care of Jesse? That’s sweet!” she said.

            Hanzo blubbered a bit and Mad looked him in the eye. The man had to understand their secrecy, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t say anything more. That was dangerous.

            “Well yeah they’re datin’ now. Have to lay down the law somewhere,” Mad chuckled.

            _Or maybe not_.

            “You and Jesse are dating?!” Mei said loud enough to make Hana, Satya, and Angela swivel around from their own rearranging.

            Hanzo flushed red and took a careful step back, and he looked to Genji, who stood opposite of him, stoically, and unwilling to help him out. Then he turned his gaze to Jesse, who had turned away from the order counter. They stared at each other for a long moment.

            “Yes,” Hanzo said gently. “I’ve been seeing Jesse for a few months now.”

             Hana burst out laughing and bent over a chair, and Satya clapped her slender hands together before adjusting the table an inch to the right.

            “Exquisite,” Satya breathed.

            Mei covered her mouth, and Hanzo saw the blush on her cheeks. He put a hand on her shoulder and winked at her, trying to make her feel better about it. The only one in the room that didn’t seem to have an expression or reaction was Angela. Instead, her gaze set on Jesse for a long while, before looking back to Hanzo. Hanzo couldn’t help but feel a bit threatened by it.

            _What are you thinking_?

            Hana regained control of herself and grinned. “You two! I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

            “You didn’t know anythin’,” Jesse snorted walking over.   

            “Fine you’re right. Jesse, I didn’t know you were – I mean I have a bajillion gay friends that would have loved—"

            “Are they all doin’ that game thing with the electronics pad you use?”

            Hana gave him a look. “Don’t you pretend like you don’t understand what a video game is Jesse! Sometimes I know you play dumb. Also, yes.”  
            Jesse chuckled. “I’m not gettin’ away with anythin’ today, am I?”

            “Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand,” Angela said, taking a seat. Hanzo frowned, sensing the mood dying but also being happy for it. He did not want Jesse and him to be the focus of anything. They all took a seat, Hanzo next to the cowboy, Mad and Genji across from them, and the other three down the way. It was difficult to focus while his heart was pounding, but he knew they had important planning to do. Of course, that only became more difficult when Jesse brought all the food over. It was a feast; burgers, fries, snacks, everything fried, and everything verifiably bad for you. Watching Jesse pack in three green chili burgers in a row was enough to distract him, especially as he spoke through his happy snacking sounds, lumps of burger in his cheek, that same lovely drawl dripping out of the corners of his mouth.

            Hanzo couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, what it would be like to feed Jesse and not have anyone realize that that was what he was doing. No, now was not the time to think about those things, but he could barely resist casually handing him a fry smothered in gravy and ketchup. Jesse took it mid-sentence as they discussed strategy. He was good at this kind of thing. He had the intelligence for it, surely, but he wasn’t aware enough to turn down Hanzo’s casual food offerings. What else could he get away with? Hanzo grabbed an onion ring for himself and passed it to Jesse, who took it, dipped it in ketchup and chowed it down. Hanzo smiled and leaned over, elbow on the table and hand on his cheek.

_Blah blah blah explosives blah blah blah payload_.

            Hanzo took a bite of his own burger and relaxed, releasing a small grunt. He was so ’full’. Would Jesse notice? He typically did. And he did now. Jesse leaned back and took the half-eaten burger, turning it sideways and taking several large bites. Hanzo eyed his belly, but his armor denied the satisfaction of witnessing his engorging. Maybe if he handed him some more fries–

            “OW!” Hanzo yelped, silencing the gathering. His knee was on fire! He eyed Genji across the table – even with his helmet on he could feel the glare. _Genji kicked him!_

            “Sorry, continue, I …bumped my foot on the….” Hanzo tapered off and glared at Genji. But, he was right. He should have been paying attention.

            “Do you not have prosthetics?” Satya questioned – she always did have an eye for detail. Damn.

             “It startled me,” Hanzo managed. “Move on, please continue.”

            “So just like a payload drop. Hanzo, Genji, and I will be waiting to get in, but its up to ya’ll to get the explosives to the entrance of the mines. That’ll cause the distraction we need,” Jesse said, without hesitation. He loved the man that always came to the rescue.  

            “And what about afterward?” Satya asked.

            “I’ll be red teamin’ this shit, so you deliver the payload, I’ve got no choice but to order my men to fall back.”

            “I question a man’s integrity who would lead his own to their deaths,” Satya said dimly.

            “Wait you’re not helping us?” Jesse asked, clearly in sudden confusion. “I thought you were going to be on our side.”

            “Listen, I ain’t no hero,” Mad said. “I’ve been with Deadlock a long time. I might be givin’ you the upper hand but if Talon figures out I am helping you rescue your friends, we’re all fucked. So, you’re not going to have an easy time of it. I’m not going to pull punches. I’m givin’ my men a fair shot at this. You best listen and listen good. You get a chance to take me out, you do it. It’ll sure as hell go a long way to cripple our defense.”

            “Mad we ain’t gunna kill you,” Jesse said warningly. It seemed like, while Mad and Jesse had discussed a plan for hours, he hadn’t heard this part of it. Hanzo put a hand on his boyfriend’s arm and frowned.

            “You can’t expect me to hesitate if I get the chance,” Mad told him. “You gotta remember, Deadeye. You gotta remember what’s out here. You Deadlock or you die in the damned desert. You gettin’ my meanin’?”

            Hanzo wish he understood, but he saw something drain from Jesse just then. That tiny smirk that was always there disappeared. The youthful eyes, bright, and full of life, dimmed. His round face faded gaunt, and his teeth yellowed as he pushed a cigarillo between his cracked lips and gnawed on it. Hanzo’s eyes darted between the group. Angela was calm, Satya was critical. Hana had frozen mid bite, and Mei had tears in her eyes. They all saw it too. Jesse dipped his head to try and hide his face with the brim of his hat. Hanzo looked to Mad, his heart growing cold toward the man as he heard Jesse’s dark tone ooze out from his throat and nose.

            “Oh, I hear ya.”  


	18. Ultimate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji and the others press the attack and attempt to deliver the explosive payload to Deadlock Mines. Jesse and Hanzo have an unexpected showdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than the others because I enjoyed writing some of the action a bit too much haha. The Plot Thickens.

             Jesse “Deadeye” McCree perched on the ridge with Hanzo, planted above the gulch that held the entrance to the mine.  They were geared and ready to execute. The sun was setting low, and he watched as the ninja carved his way through the fortress unseen – except by Jesse and Hanzo, though, occasionally he lost sight and needed Hanzo to point him out again. Carefully, gently, he felt Hanzo take his hand.

            “It will be all right,” Hanzo whispered.

            “Don’t right know about that.”

            “Look on the bright side, everyone knows we are a couple now. And seem happy for us.”

            “That’s true, except Angela,” Jesse said.

            “She has not been herself since she arrived here,” Hanzo murmured. “I am not sure if that is related to us.”

            “Maybe she has a clone too,” Jesse chuckled. “I’m all paranoid now.”

            “That would be rich.”

            “Any sight of clone-Jack?”    

            “No, for now I am worried about the enhanced Deadlock gang members and Mad Minute,” Hanzo said. “Is he serious about not holding back? After everything you have been through?”

            Jesse nodded. “He’s serious, don’t expect ya to understand but Deadlock raises ‘em different out here.”

            Jesse looked over as Hanzo’s hand fell on his shoulder now. He couldn’t help but lean into him and dip his head, and Hanzo peeled underneath his hat to give him a gentle kiss. Jesse had never felt this uncertain before a mission. His heart was pounding, his breathing haggard. He felt angry and activated, thinking about what he’d have to do if they ran into Mad, thinking about all that had happened in the past few days and wishing it had gone down differently.

            That lovely hand slipped to his thick chest, over his thumping heart.

            “Calm your storm,” Hanzo whispered.

            “Not sure how,” Jesse admitted.

            “You are fighting something, more than the enemy before us. You are fighting yourself, your past. You are fighting the man Mad made you. He expects you to be like him. To play by the Deadlock rules. I sense you want to. It is boiling in your blood. You crave it.”

            “It’s always been there,” Jesse murmured.

            “You must not let it consume you. You are not one of them. You are a hero of Overwatch. Jesse McCree does not murder in cold blood. Jesse McCree finds another way.”

            “Yer wrong about that, Hanzo,” Jesse murmured. “I also know when we’re outta options. If putting a bullet in Mad is what this mission needs, then I’ll do it.”

            Jesse stood and walked along the ridge, spitting into the dirt. He hooked his thumbs into his belt, feeling his big belly pinch them in against the leather. He wasn’t scrawny like back in the Deadlock days. He’d returned a new man, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t have old problems. He wanted to believe Hanzo, he wanted to believe that everything would work out in the end, but everything he knew and cared about out here always met the same end. There was no reason to suspect anything different this time.

            “Hmm.” Jesse heard Hanzo murmur. “I am sorry you feel that way. I wish you would not subscribe to what I can only assume is a Deadlock mantra.”

            “Nothing out here but—”

            “ _Us_ , Jesse,” Hanzo interjected. “We are out here. I am right here!”

            Jesse turned to Hanzo as he stood and approached him with shoulders drawn back and chin up, as if this was a challenge. Jesse tensed and studied him, not wanting to interrupt him as he clearly prepared to say more.

            "Your friends need you, Jesse McCree, and you are surrounded by friends. To say that there is nothing out here but Deadlock, it is an insult. Look at you.” Hanzo pushed closer and wrapped his hands around his waist. “A man of Deadlock could not be so beautiful; a man of Deadlock could not have your smile and your spirit. Do not betray the truth to appease your mentor, no, prove that he no longer knows the man that you are. He deserves to see the truth.”

            Jesse studied Hanzo for a long moment and allowed a stubborn scrunch in his face before relaxing and pulling out a cigarillo. He took the time to light it and inhale the smoke.

            “You’re right. Can’t give up on me. Can’t give up on my friends. You were a big part of me bein’ this way. Can’t let ya down.”

            Jesse gave Hanzo a subtle nod, and he returned it, before they set their gaze on the gulch below. The compound enclosing the old mine had been there since its original excavation, lending Deadlock a fortress that was worth defending. There were few places more protected than a mine dug to leak out some of the last known veins of precious metals in the west, and when it had been abandoned during the Omnic Crisis, its takeover had been unfortunate to the military and Overwatch alike. Overwatch may have pushed Deadlock out of the territories surrounding it, but the mine remained on of the last bastions of their strength. This wasn’t going to be easy, but if he kept on his toes, and focused on the team, they may very well stand a chance.

            Jesse eyed the payload in the distance – looks like Mad had pulled through and got the truck full of explosives. He just wondered who the hell he got to drive the damn thing.

 

            Genji had his work cut out for him.

            _One right, one left, two behind, three above, two in front._

            **“ _Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!”_**

            _Right gone, left gone, one in front, none in front, turn around one behind dash none above, dash none below_.

            “The payload is secure,” he said. He felt the warmth of Mercy’s healing beam grace him, and he remembered how much he absolutely coveted and adored that feeling. It was one of the only things that made him feel human again.

            “ _Arigatō yo_ ,” he said.

            “Of course, Genji,” Mercy replied before she flew away to boost D.Va’s mech as she was shooting down a flimsy guard tower.

             The compound was rich with the Deadlock gang members, and bullets flew from nearly every direction. He lifted his blade and reflected some of the projectiles that were directed at him. They were firing from the group of men some thirty yards away and they all slipped behind cover to avoid the ricochet. The gulch was a verifiable junkyard, speckled with barrels, crates, sheds, and other structures, not to mention massive boulders and ditches dug by the gang members themselves. Genji slipped beside the slow-moving payload and grabbed the side of the canvased back carriage.

            “Symmetra! I will buy you some time to place more turrets!”

            “The effort would be appreciated,” she said simply as she materialized some more on the back of the payload. Genji looked thirty yards ahead and the men who and regained their courage to fire again. He pushed forward into a dash. He’d have to cover a lot of ground. He got fifteen yards in – shots fired – _OOF!_

            Genji found himself flat on his back as he dashed head first into an ice wall.

            “Oh! Sorry Genji!” Mei called out. “I was trying to help!”

            Genji grabbed his helmet and shook his head of the stars before leaping to his feet and giving her a hearty laugh.

            “Perfect!” he shouted, before he climbed up the wall, shurikens in hand, leaped off the top, tumbled and flung his sharp metal stars at the men below. That would take care of them. Genji dashed back and climbed on top of the payload, before dashing besides Symmetra as she hurried to put more turrets on. Mei was in front of them, freezing some of the pursuit while she was at it. Genji gave her a hand in finishing them off.

            “ **NERF THIS!** ” D.va called out from somewhere, before Genji noticed that she had crushed some of the sheds on the opposite side of the compound. Angela was making she ran back to the payload safe until she could re-mech. Genji had to admit he was impressed with how well they were doing. So much for a challenge.

            Genji pushed forward in front of the payload again and focused on the men that were near the mine’s entrance, though that area was peppered in equipment crates and barrels. He thought it would be quick work, but something wasn’t right. They seemed crooked. None of the five men had weapons on them. Genji shook his head and pressed the attack. By the time he realized what they were, it was too late. One of the men dashed forward at an inhuman speed, and his punch was like getting pounded by Doomfist himself. 

            Genji tried to regain his footing, but he couldn’t quite manage, before he was grabbed by the ankle and dragged off. He struggled to recalibrate, and he could hear the shouting of his friends in the distance. He’d gone too far ahead.

            And he never thought he’d hear a sound so sweet again.

            “ ** _Ryū ga waga teki wo kurau!_** ”

            The sounds of Hanzo’s dragons spiraling down toward him, mouths agape, swallowing the life of those that passed by – well it was awesome in the true sense. He felt his own spirit dragon stir in kindred and excitement, and suddenly his own power surged forward, signaling it was ready to be unleashed again and in a record time.

            “Thank you, _Anija_ ,” Genji whispered, toward where ever he may be perched. Genji rushed back to his feet and dashed back to toward the payload. Angela was quick to give him healing.

            “We are nearly there!” Symmetra said, turrets burning holes in anyone who neared them, and of course, it was difficult to get near her as well. She was correct that the payload was almost to the door, and the truck started in a fury pulling away from the group with a surge of power. Genji kept up, as long as he could, seeing more men flood out from the mines. They were unarmed too, and one pushed forward and slammed into the front of the truck, lifting it, and making it spin its wheels.

            Genji stared in disbelief. They must have been the experiments.

            “ ** _Dòng zhù! Bùxǔ zǒu!_** ”

            Genji watched as Mei activated her blizzard, and the men coming at them froze in place, their painful grunts escaping them as they did so. That wasn’t the only surprise. Genji was once again blindsided, not by an ice wall this time, but with an angry tumbleweed that bounced into his shoulder and tangled in his helmet. _Garrrgg!_

            “ ** _It’s High Noooonnnn……_** ”

            Six shots. Six kills.

            The man holding the truck fell and so did the car, its driver pushing it forward at full speed into the entrance.

            Everything felt silent.

            Mei leaped up to untangle the tumbleweed from Genji and Mercy topped off his health for that encounter. She always did worry needlessly. He gave Mei a quick side hug as a thank you.

            “We should gain some distance,” Symmetra advised.

            Everyone agreed, running away from the payload as it was no doubt setting to explode. They were nearly there, they were so close! D.va blasted off and away, and Mercy dragged herself with it. Genji ran with Mei and Sym, and skidded behind cover.

_BOOOOMMM!!!!!_

            Genji ducked his head behind a crate as they were showered in rocks and dirt. But he almost couldn’t help but lift his head to see Jack Morrison walking away casually from the plumes of smoke and fire, his rifle slung over his shoulder, and that FAT GUY written somehow proudly on his forehead. Smug son of a bitch. Jack stopped beside him and tossed his biotic field on the ground, letting it open up for anyone who needed it.

            “Good job, team,” he said gruffly. “Though back in my day—”

            “You would have had the payload delivered a long time ago,” Genji said mocking boredom.

            “Exactly.”

            “I’ve set a teleporter here,” Symmetra said, interrupting their banter. “When we find the others, I will create its partner. We’ll make our escape.”

            “Good thinking,” Genji said. “And good luck to the team.”

 

            Jesse and Hanzo pushed into the mines, with Genji not too far behind, though he opted to stay hidden or scout ahead. The others were planning on pushing through another entrance, causing the main distraction. He was dreading running into Mad, who he had seen pushing down and calling back his men. Hanzo gave him an occasional tap on the shoulder.

            The mine tunnels were dark and twisted, sending Jesse into a dizzy haze as he tried to keep himself straight. He vaguely knew they way, having visited here a handful of times. But he was never without Mad—

            A gunshot whizzed past his head, and Hanzo dragged Jesse’s bulk to the ground.

            Jesse’s heart thumped like drums in his chest. He heard a soft click as the man reloaded. He definitely knew that sound.

            “He’s here,” Jesse murmured. He curled his fingers into the soil floor of the mine, before he got to his feet and found some cover behind the bend of a wall. Hanzo took the opposite side, sending a sonic arrow down the tunnel.

            “ _Marked_ ,” he whispered.

            Jesse could see Mad’s figure, clear as day.

            “We don’t gotta do this Mad!” Jesse called out, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

            “You always were a fool, McCree,” Mad said, however gently he could.

            Jesse looked to Hanzo. “Stay here. I’ve got to take care of this myself.”

            “Jesse.”

            “Stay _here_.”

            Jesse eased around the corner and Hanzo flung another sonic arrow, so he could see Mad shift and try to move around the bend and behind a boulder. Jesse pressed himself up against the opposing wall.

            “You could get out you know, join us at Overwatch,” Jesse said. “You could do some good.”

            “Ain’t got that kind of life ahead of me, Jesse.”

            “How do you know?” Jesse asked. “Mad please—”

            Another four gunshots rattled against the corner, chipping away dirt and making Jesse scrunch against the wall. His ears rang horribly, and he tried to clean them out with a shake of his little finger.

            “Why would I join Overwatch? They didn’t do you any good. Look at ya, can’t even shoot straight! They made you into a limp wrist wimpy-ass mother fuckin’ idiot.”

            Jesse McCree knew he was being goaded, but he gave in anyway, tossing some bullets around the corner and making Mad shift and run away. Another sonic arrow flung from somewhere, but Jesse didn’t see anything.

            “Hanzo, fire to the left,” Jesse whispered. “Hanzo?”

            Jesse turned to see Mad right behind him, holding a gun to the back of Hanzo’s head. Hanzo had frozen in place and he slowly lowered his bow. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Jesse’s anger flared, and he raised the gun toward Mad’s head.

            “Back _off_.”

            “Now why would I do that?” Mad asked. “They really did make you soft, didn’t they? They prepared you for a world that doesn’t exist. You won’t be able to do a damned thing about your friends, or Talon. They’re one, two, three steps ahead. You think I would have made a deal with Overwatch? Ha! No. Talon is at least smart about it.”

            Jesse glared at him. “If you hate Overwatch so much then why’d you—”

            Another gunshot rang through the room.

            Jesse froze, watching as Hanzo flinched, though he was unharmed. Mad stumbled back and slipped to the ground. Jesse dove to his mentor and cried out in panic, lifting him into his arms as blood poured out from his stomach.

            “NO! NO no no!” Jesse screamed. He looked up and saw the shadowy figure step forward, rifle raised, visor included. His forehead was blank.

            “You shouldn’t have come here, kid,” clone-Jack murmured. “I tried to get you to stay behind but you never listen.”

            “What are you?” Jesse hissed.  

            “What am I? You don’t recognize your own commander?”

            “Jack Morrison – the _real_ Jack Morrison delivered the payload, dipshit. So. What the _fuck_ are you?”

            Clone-Jack straightened as Hanzo aimed an arrow at his head. He released his signature raspy chuckle, but slowly the sound echoed and morphed into a sinister, sharp cackle. Smoke cascaded from the form, and turned to liquid black, before materializing as the creature with the bone white mask.

            “Clever, _McCree_. Ah well…it was fun while it _lasted_.”


	19. A Good Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad remembers the last time he saw Young Jesse McCree  
> Jesse and Hanzo work with Reaper in an attempt to save Mad's life.

            “Shit, Overwatch is comin’ in. Keep your head down kid,” Mad growled, pushing him through the train car full of crates.

            “I ain’t keepin’ my head down,” Jesse snarled. “If some Overwatch shithead comes in here, I’ll shoot ‘em up right fast—AHH!”

            Mad grabbed this kid’s hair and twisted his fingers in between the locks, pulling his head back and making him lean back on his spurred heels. Nothing made him angrier than hearing Jesse McCree, the kid he had given so much to, spit back at him. It was like a plume of smoke in his chest, and he exhaled roughly, spitting out his cigarillo.

            “You wanna get killed, kid?”

            “No, but you said it was already gunna happen so what the fuck does it matter if I take a few down along the way?”

            Mad’s grip loosened and he shoved Jesse forward. He bent down and picked up his cigarillo and stuck it back between his lips. He rolled his tongue on the end of it and dipped his head to hide his face beneath the brim of his hat.

            Mad done good, raisin’ the kid into Deadlock, it seemed. Grit, fire, hate, fearlessness, ruthlessness, a true killer Jesse McCree was now. He watched the boy kick the body of a train employee they’d just shot down, bend over and check his pockets for cash. He didn’t find anything, so he pried off the man’s wedding ring inside, and even opened his mouth to rip out a gold capped tooth, not fearing the blood in the slightest.

             Jesse McCree, pure Deadlock now.

            “We gotta get back on task,” Jesse said. “We clear out the next car and, one two three four,” Jesse pointed in the air. “Five is the one we cut off. Gunna be a fun ride.”

            “Gunna be fun,” Mad agreed.

            He’d done good, he thought again. Kid was focused. They pushed into the next train car, this one a dining car. People cowered at their tables, and Jesse pried off their jewelry and used his gun barrel to slip up a lady’s skirt and snicker. He grabbed a hot cinnamon bun from the table and scarfed it down, before tossing Mad a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar. Mad took it, drank from it. Mad eyed a man that he was sure wanted to start something – he had a look in his eye, like he was gatherin’ the courage but couldn’t quite face him yet. He heard the blaring alarms of the crafts in pursuit. Overwatch wouldn’t be far behind, but that didn’t stop Jesse McCree from jumping to the next car, nor did he look back to see if Mad had followed.

            Jesse McCree, fuckin’ Deadlock. That tattoo on the inside of his forearm said it all.

            Mad stepped over the gap outside to the next train, and Jesse was facing him. He put a finger to his lips and grinned, before he fired his gun right past Mad’s face. Mad flinched and ducked, turning around and seeing that coward of a man behind him, falling wayside beneath the tracks with smears of blood. He heard Jesse’s syrup laugh ring behind him.

            “You better watch your back, Mad.”

            “Good shot,” Mad murmured.

            “I’m sorry, was that a fuckin’ compliment?” Jesse started with a harsh snort. “Fuck you, Mad.”

            “You’re a piece of shit,” Mad countered.

            “We’re wastin’ time,” Jesse insisted. “One more car to go.”

            Damn good shot though, the best shot Deadlock had, real talent Jesse McCree, real mouth on him too. He almost thought he saw that bright eyed eager kid again, the kid with fear in his eyes when he looked up at Mad’s own dark soulless pupils. To think this was the same kid that he tortured and dragged through the dirt. The one that pissed his pants the first time Mad shoved a gun in his face, so he’d get a taste for the metal. The one that drank his booze and had a soft coughing fit, throat not yet raw from the hard stuff. Now Jesse McCree was a thorn, sharp, twisted, and violent.

            A true Deadlock….

            God, what had he done?

            Heavy boots landed on the roof. One man. Guess they didn’t ever need many of ‘em these days. Not for stopping a train heist. But this one man would regret running into Jesse McCree. Mad wasn’t much of a fight anymore, but Jesse “Deadeye” McCree had talent. He was the golden boy. He was unstoppable.

            Mad watched Jesse push into the train car ahead. He heard the gunshot. The thud. He saw Jesse go down, and he felt like he was right there with him, falling to the ground, a hole in his gut. He pushed forward, not even looking to the figure who had done the shooting, diving down and lifting Jesse into his arms.

            “Jesse!” Mad cried, shaking, already covered in blood. He clasped his hand to Jesse’s stomach tightly, trying to stop the bleeding.

            Jesse McCree, dying now.

            He heard the man approach behind him, boots thumping heavily. He could hear his breathless confusion at the sight of an old Deadlock member sobbing over a kid as he gasped for air and cringed and struggled against his hands. The fear in Jesse’s eyes returned, and Mad once again saw that kid, that same kid. He pushed his hand through his messy brown hair, regretting all the times he pulled at it. Every time he punched him or broke his precious nose. Mad was beyond help.

            Mad Minute, Deadlock.

            Jesse McCree, a good man.

            “Please, please save him! I will help you stop this heist just do something!” Mad screamed, finally turning around to face the dark-skinned man, dressed in black. He was young, hair swept back and buzzed on the side, facial hair trimmed to a goatee. His eyes were dark but not quite like Mad’s.

            “We don’t negotiate—”

            “He’s a great shot. Best you’ll ever see. Jesse “Deadeye” McCree, is his name. Can shoot a flea off a dog’s back, I swear to it. He’d be perfect for Overwatch.”

            “What are you talking about?” the man hissed.

            Mad looked back to Jesse, who’s eyes were wide, mouth agape. He shook his head and clawed at Mad’s arms.

            “D-don’t,” Jesse managed.

            “Kid, shut the fuck up _for once_!” Mad hissed. “You better do some goddamn good in this world, Jesse McCree.”

            Mad took off his hat and placed it on Jesse’s scrappy haircut, before brushing the tears from his friend’s cheeks, smearing blood across his face as he did so.

            “We’re planning to blow the engine and detach the back end,” Mad said. “If you hurry up you’ll be able to stop us. There’s a side maintenance hatch we sabotaged a week ago, and you can get in through there,” Mad said, not taking his eyes off Jesse’s diminishing vigor.

            He heard the man stagger back and call it in on his radio before asking for a healer. He then dipped down to inject Jesse with a stimulant gun, making Jesse recoil out of the shock and scream. Mad slipped his hand away as the agent of Overwatch took over, putting to pressure on the bullet wound.

            “Hang in there,” the man said.

            Mad swallowed. “What’s your name?”

            “Reyes,” he murmured.

            “Take good care of him, Reyes.”

           

            Jesse panted as he pressed Hanzo’s scarf deep against Mad’s stomach as he struggled to stop the bleeding. Mad was fighting to stay conscious, but a man at his age wouldn’t have much fight left in him. He remembered when this had been reversed. He wasn’t going to give up now.  

            “What are you _doing_?” Reaper asked.

            “Savin’ him!” Jesse spat harshly. Hanzo had his bow drawn at Reaper’s head, ready to fire.

            “I do not _understand_. He was trying to _kill you_.”

            “He’s my friend!” Jesse screamed. “You don’t remember him? He thought he had no choice.”

            Reaper growled and started closer, but Hanzo’s bow exploded into blue light, his dragons raging inside of him and along his arm, feeding into his weapon brilliantly.

            “Do not take one step closer,” Hanzo spat angrily.

            Reaper cocked his head as Jesse looked up between them.

            “And you _are?_ Oh yes, you’re the other Shimada _boy_. Never quite grew _up_.”

            “They say you cannot be insulted if you do not think the same of yourself. Your words fall on deaf ears. You do not know me, dark creature!” Hanzo shouted, firing a succession of arrows – none of them hit as Reaper evaporated into smoke and returned to his form moments later, snorting and growling roughly.

            “You test my patience, _prince_.”

            “Can we cut the meet-n-greet and get a goddamn healer?!” Jesse asked in a panic, spitting into the dirt beside him. “If you’re not going to kill us, then fucking help us!”

            “Fine, Jesse _McCree._ I was going to try to convince you to _leave_ , but if you insist on coming here anyway, follow _me_.”

            Hanzo knelt down and helped Jesse pick up Mad in his arms, trying his best to help support the man’s head as Jesse kept the pressure on. Mad gasped and whimpered in pain, and Jesse could tell he was fading fast.

            I’ve heard a lot about _you, Shimada_. You and I have a lot in _common_.”

            “We are nothing alike.”  

            “You’re the one with the _hunger_. Yes, you try to deny it, but like me you never _can_. You try to bend others to your will and if they deny you, you _destroy them_. Like you did your _brother_. He told me _everything_.”

            Jesse was barely listening to the conversation that took place, however brief after that. Hanzo refused to feed the Reaper any satisfaction for his venomous words from what he could tell. It didn’t matter. From what Jesse could see, Mad turned into a lump in his arms. He tried to shake him, to wake him, but he feared it was too late. Helplessly, he winded through the tunnels, following the cloaked creature he once trusted, carrying the man who had trusted more than anyone. It was like the threads of his life were leaking away, and all he could do was watch and hope that he’d never lose Hanzo to such a fate.

            The tunnels finally gave way to a room, fed with thick power cables for the bright, clinical lighting. Jesse didn’t remember a room like this in the mines before, but it seemed disturbingly familiar. A laboratory of insidious design.

            “Place him _here_ ,” Reaper suggested, guiding them to a surgery table. Jesse was thankful for Hanzo’s help as he put Mad on the table and checked his pulse.

            “Weak, but there,” Jesse managed. “Barely.”

            Suddenly, a soft yellow glowing orb drifted toward them and bounced off the wall, floating above their heads. Jesse felt the warmth of the healing energy inside his chest, and he felt sickened by it. Not from her. Not from _her_. But he felt more than warmth flood his chest, _relief_ as he saw Mad gasp for breath and stir.

            He put a hand on Mad’s forehead and closed his eyes, knowing there was always a price to pay when it came from Moira.

           “Reaper, I told you I had no use for them.” Her dark voice slithered up from the abyss and wrapped its tendrils around Jesse’s throat.

           “They came anyway, just like I told you they _would_ ,” Reaper replied, though it seemed distant. Jesse almost guessed regretful, but he could not attribute guilt to the creature, no matter how much he wanted to.

           “My, my...”

            Jesse carefully turned to face the gaunt, tall, woman, towering over him, her hair as orange as ever and her eyes colored midnight. She put her hands on either one of his cheeks and gave them a little pinch.

            “Aren’t you just adorable?”

            Jesse heard Hanzo grunt behind him and Jesse huffed, gathering up the courage to speak despite her sharp trailing hands moving to his sides and poking his soft gut.

           “What have you done with the others, Moira?”

* * *

Artwork by [Mintytac @ Tumblr](https://mintytac.tumblr.com/post/174074607927/mad-minute-from-we-grow-fonder-still-i-wasnt)


	20. Sated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo learns of Moira's strange motivations, and Jesse prepares to learn the truth behind what happened to Jack.

            “The others are safe, contained,” Moira said with a casual flip of her hand. Her thin lips curled into a smile along the edge of her sharp cheekbone, making it seem unnaturally predatory. Hanzo did not know what to think of her. Of course, he had known _of_ Moira, he had done his research, but he hadn’t pieced it together until Jesse had mentioned her by name. The way she ran her hands along his stomach, like she was amused, enthralled even. Hanzo watched as Jesse stood there, glaring, but letting her touch him. That boiled a fire in his gut. He pushed forward and between them.

            “Do not touch him like he is an object, Moira.”

            That seemed to break Jesse out of a trance, and he took a step back at least.

            “Ah, Hanzo Shimada, a pleasure to meet you. I never thought I would be able to express my admiration for your work in person.”

            “My work?” Hanzo asked, hesitantly, though he knew he would regret the question as soon as he asked it.

            “You’ve certainly been doing a number on the team. First Genji, now McCree,” she gestured.

            “That ain’t funny,” Jesse drawled. “You know why we’re here. Let us collect our friends and we’ll be outta here without a fight, at least today.”

            Moira rolled her eyes and looked to Reaper, who had been standing by Mad patiently, his arms crossed, that same bone white mask draped in smoky shadow. She gestured to him and Reaper stepped forward. The action made Hanzo tense and he knocked an arrow into his bow with ease.

            “Come with _me_ ,” Reaper growled.

            Hanzo exchanged a glance with Jesse, wrecked with uncertainty. He saw his eyes go to Mad, lying on the table, unconscious now it seemed, but he was breathing normally now, and the bleeding had stopped. Hanzo gave Jesse a curt nod, carefully lowering his bow.

            “Very well.”

            “Not you, Hanzo. Just Jesse,” Moira said.

            “I will allow you to separate us,” Hanzo chuffed harshly.

            “You have my word nothing will happen, not before we have our little chat.”

            “Hanzo, its fine, I’ll go,” Jesse said.

            Hanzo turned to Jesse and searched his eyes, watching them crinkle at the corners, his lips peeling apart slowly and his nostrils giving him a flare. He wasn’t sure what he was trying to tell him, but he had a feeling it was a silent argument. Jesse McCree was the person he’d least expect to go with the flow of things, that was Hanzo’s natural inclination. Whatever he was planning was beyond him, but he sensed Jesse too, recognized the inconvenience of resisting, at least at this moment in time. They others would find them eventually, now it was all about biding time, especially with the peculiar turn of events, and Reaper’s strange offer to assist them with Mad. Hanzo gave him a curt not.

            “Very well,” Hanzo said gently, watching as Jesse turned and walked off to follow Reaper, their gait disturbingly similar. Reaper’s words rang in his head as he watched them leave through another back tunnel.

            _You’re the one with the hunger._

Nerve, exposed, raw now, he turned to Moira only to guess she knew of the accusation as well, and intended to poke and prod her way though him. Hanzo regretted allowing Jesse to leave. He did not want to engage this discourse.

            “We’ve been watching you for quite some time, as you can no doubt imagine,” Moira began walking away from Mad, though she tossed another yellow orb his way. It lazily bounced off the walls, and Hanzo doubted its effectiveness. She moved to the collection of counters and tables that formed the bulk of her laboratory. Flasks, beakers, burners, refrigeration units, microscopes, measuring tools, computers, medical equipment, and more than a few caged rats. Hanzo gravitated toward the animals, watching as the rats slept lazily, well fed, in hammocks.

            “Everyone else seems to,” Hanzo said. “Though no one ever collects much.”

            “I believe we’ve done a better job,” Moira said. “We’ve the resources we need in Talon. A hacker who pried open every data file you have ever saved – financial records, you do plenty of shopping don’t you? Old classroom reports, some very curious pornography, all food related it seemed, which made more sense when we discovered your private messages written to, oh what was his name? Kaito—”

            “If you intend to rattle me your efforts are misplaced,” Hanzo said firmly, though it came off much more like a warning than intended. Moira gave him a laugh, which only did more to bristle Hanzo’s exposed nerves, fraying them further.

            “The assassinations you performed were also very interesting. You’ve truly done it all, haven’t you? Strange that you’re here now, amongst the gangs of Deadlock. Tell me, does Jesse McCree know of your ties with your own organized crime syndicate?”

             “What does this have to do with anything? I grow tired of this conversation.”

            “Oh, nothing I suppose but to flaunt my understanding of you, Hanzo Shimada, for I find it curious, that in one of the only instances in which Widowmaker failed in an assassination was with you. Surely you remember that attempt when you were younger, peddling drugs and killing people. Widowmaker failed yet again when she shot down your plane. You simply do not seem to _die_.”

            “A gift of mine,” Hanzo retorted, though his tone was lacking humor. “So, you know a lot about me, but this changes nothing of our situation. You must unhand our team at once and cease your experiments.”

            “My experiments will change the world,” Moira announced. “Doctor Wight’s contributions needed to be elevated and brought beyond the veil. A shame he got squeamish half way through our partnership, though he made a good specimen himself. He was very viable, until the end.”

            Hanzo tensed and carefully kicked out his metal foot, tapping to the side and circling around her. She was being rather talkative, even confessing to murdering Doctor Wight. Well, at least there was one less cog to worry about. If Hanzo discovered her intentions, her plan, it might give him a clue about how to stop this. What reaction was she expecting? Was she expecting his admiration? His resistance? Was he expecting him to listen? What could be gathered from the Hanzo Shimada she thought she knew from his past, gleamed from classwork, assassinations, and pornography?

            _You try to deny it, but like me you never can._ _The hunger_.

            Hanzo’s eyes squinted involuntarily. Of course, that was it. They thought him a glutton for his desires. Moira feeling over Jesse like a product of his _work_. Moira mentioning Genji as if she thought of him the same; his _work._ If Hanzo Shimada did not get what he wanted, he would destroy. She wanted the result. She wanted him hungry.

            “I must admit at first I was eager to see Doctor Wight’s work in practice. It was a shame his practices were unethical,” Hanzo mused, though he kept his tone tepid for now.

            “And since when have you cared about ethics? If everyone in your family, including yourself, had heeded an ethical code you would either be very poor or very fat.” Moira chuckled, an ugly sound that. She seemed to busy herself with work as they spoke, opening the refrigerator and removing a vial of purplish liquid, giving it a casual swirl.

            “I would not mind either, and my ethical code has improved since I committed myself to join Overwatch,” Hanzo replied, honestly.

            “Oh please,” Moira laughed. “You’ve neutered yourself by working for _them_. It is nothing but an old band trying desperately to get back together, yet their music falls flat, and they are all old and tone deaf. Ethics aside you’ve enjoyed the results of ignoring them. Those legs of yours, were they not an experiment? Were they not beneficial to your performance?”

            “They were forced upon me,” Hanzo said. “You know this.”

            “Indeed, the technology ahead of its time and you one of the only viable recipients. Lucky that, at least, for now. You’ve been experiencing symptoms of rejection lately, have you not? The timing would be about right for it, according to research. That tends to happen with the direct grafting method. I’m surprised you’ve made it this far without a severe incident.”

            Hanzo snorted, but swayed closer to her, as if interested in what she had to say. He had to admit that lately his legs had been swollen at the knees, and perhaps the pain was getting worse. But it was not bad, all things considered.

“I will deal with it when the time comes.”

            “Or we can deal with it now,” Moira offered. “Doctor Wight’s nanotechnology grafting into the muscle was a wonderful idea, of course, but the problem was always rejection. Interestingly enough I’ve found a way to combat this rejection.”

            “Oh?” Hanzo pressed.

            “Soldier 76’s unique blood compound, derivative of course from the Soldier Enhancement Program, contains unique properties that when supplemented, encourage constant regeneration of muscle tissue and nerve endings. He recovers quickly from injury, and this serum allows the nanotechnologies to graft to the tissue and sort themselves to properly achieve maximized efficiency.”

                 Hanzo gave her a curt not. “That explains why Commander Morrison returned claiming Reaper collected his blood. Did you perform other experiments on him? That does not explain the black bile he was throwing up,” he murmured.

                 “Black bile? _Interesting_ ,” Moira thought out loud, before she grinned wide. “Interesting indeed.”

                 “What is?”

                 Moira waved him off.

                 “Why did you kidnap the others?” Hanzo asked firmly, deciding to return the subject to the pressing matter at hand.

                 “Simply? Reaper had the idea after I expressed discontent with the boring nonchallenge of experimenting on Deadlock humans. He had managed to incapacitate Jack long enough to assume his form and convince the others of a false mission. He thought they would make great test subjects, though the only one I was truly interested in working with was Lúcio. His legs are also suffering from impracticality. I wondered if the nanotechnologies could reorient a birth defect as severe as his.”

                 Hanzo huffed and shook his head. “Why do you perform such subversion? You seek to help and enhance others, yet you do so forcefully? You wish to improve the world, but you maim, murder, and torment as you make your discoveries.”

                 “Such a narrowminded question,” Moira replied, her tone disappointed. “Why do you stuff your partner full of food and watch him double in size? Hmm? You have no doubt weaved your twisted vision where you wanted it, especially into McCree. We’ve all our vices, Hanzo. We all have our hunger that can only be sustained out of the bounds of normal ethical practice. I hunger for knowledge, Reaper hungers for souls and death, and you, you Hanzo, you _hunger_ for pleasure and control. You’d fit right in here, and I am glad we get to have this conversation, after all. I originally had no more than a passing interest in you. You seemed selfishly obsessed with your fat pet, and I underestimated McCree’s ability to perform athletically. But now that you are both here despite your preoccupations, I can see now I underestimated your worth.”

                 Hanzo’s lips parted, feeling his last nerve unravel, and never before had he felt so unprotected. Genji’s words flooded his mind, his worry for his hunger, his obsession, what he was doing to Jesse McCree. Angela’s look of skepticism and judgement as they admitted their love, and no doubt she was piecing together the correlation, knowing Hanzo loved to cook and knowing Jesse loved to _eat._ In the hotel room she had visited and seen them together, hiding their secret kink and reveling in the later gain. Jack’s confused eyes placed upon him, his words, those words - _you get off on it don’t you_ – those ugly words that did nothing but seep through his veins like a shameful poison.

                 Yes, Hanzo recalled these things. But inside, he systematically rejected them. For he recounted instead the tale Jesse had told him about the green chili, how the pepper colored red like blood and incompatible with the dishes of many could be replanted into something beautiful and harmonious. Hanzo knew, that in his core, and in his spirit, he had been replanted long ago, by the tender hands of Jesse McCree. He was bright green now, spicy, and delicious. Moira, Reaper, nor anyone else could tell him otherwise.

                 “Hmm,” Hanzo said with a soft chuckle. “You plan to bribe me now with promises to heal my legs if only I would join Talon? You wish to feed this hunger of mine, you mention? You truly _have_ underestimated me, Moira. For I am finally sated.”

 

                 Jesse followed Reaper down the long corridors of the mines. He didn’t recognize this area at all, doubting he had ever gone this deep before. He studied the man that walked with him, calmly, and he grew even more interested by his continued silence.

                 “You musta recognized him,” Jesse said, intent on breaking that silence.

                 “I _did_.”

                 “He’s the one that made you promise to take care of me,” Jesse murmured.

                 “I _know_.”

                 “You broke that promise.”

                 “Did _I_?” Reaper asked this in a way that turned Jesse’s blood cold. He couldn’t fathom an alternative explanation.

                 “’Course you did.”

                 “You shouldn’t have _come_ _here_ ,”  

                 “You keep sayin’ that, but I’m here now. You shoulda known it would take more than callin’ me fat to get me to stay behind. So, what the hell happened? Why did you do this? Why didn’t you kill me in that tunnel? What the hell did you do to Jack?”   

                 Reaper stopped in his tracks with a soft huff, and turned to him, walking him up and against the wall.

                 “You wouldn’t _understand_ , _Jesse_ ,” Reaper breathed. “ _Any of it_.”

                 Jesse swallowed, looking up at the mask, and the figure that seemed to tower over him, despite remembering once being near the same height. He swallowed, wondering what he was trying to do, if not wholly intimidate him. He heard another set of footsteps behind Reaper, and leaned to the left to see Jack, ‘FAT GUY’ on his forehead and all, walk calmly behind him.

                 “Actually, Gabriel,” Jack said, his voice gravel and lead. “I think he, out of all of ‘em, would.”

                 Jesse took a deep breath as Reaper drifted backwards, like a pressure on him had been lifted. Jack calmly raised his rifle at Reaper, but Jesse could tell the motion was insincere. Reaper did not seem threatened by it in the slightest.

                 “Tell him, Gabe,” Jack said. “Or I will, and you know how boring that would be.”

                 Reaper gave him a sharp irritated growl. “Why do I still _love you, Jack?_ ”


	21. Unraveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in the cabin between Reaper and Jack?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So sorry for the delay in this update. I have been sick this past week and then I struggled against some massive writers block. Hopefully the last couple chapters will be easier to write! Thank you for reading and your patience, and enjoy the last piece of the puzzle.

                Reaper was a cruel creature, no longer a man, something else. Rippling skin tore, and muscles clenched, claws sharpened, and he felt transformation. Something else pulling him apart for once. It was not what he did, not his inward struggle against the evil, not his struggle against the man he loved, not the struggle against the foundation he had once trusted forcing him against the wall and forcing him to swallow the bullshit and the lies. Some could stomach that more than others, the fucking _bullshit_. Some could stomach it. Jack could, and he above all else envied Jack. He blamed Jack. He hated Jack. But, something else was pulling him apart now.

                 A thread had caught somewhere, unraveling. He felt exposed. Weak.

                 Especially since he watched the man in front of him scramble to consume the blackened soul for relief, as if he understood the weight of it and the sacrifice it involved. Of course he understood, he had to understand now. The hunger, the desperation, the sacrifice. It was all about sacrifice and above all else, Reaper had _sacrificed_. Now, at least, there were those sacrificing for him.

                 Jack held the cannister to his pale lips, his cheeks frost bitten from puking his guts outside the cabin window. The sun had set, and the wind was clawing at the side of the log cabin. It would storm tonight, they’d be trapped, and Reaper was looking forward to the indulgence. He had to admit he enjoyed that power, watching the former Commander crumble before him. The strong man with _conviction_. He always talked about the _conviction_. Well, look where it had led him. Into the jaws of the creature Reaper was now. All he had to do was snap down.

                 But he didn’t.

                 He thought it was because he was biding time. He thought, perhaps, it was a part of a dance with Jack Morrison, the man who had fucked him and fucked him over. After all, why couldn’t he play with his prey? He was the predator and Jack was a morsel worth savoring. Reaper only wished he could pretend otherwise. Reaper only wished any of this was true.

                 But it wasn’t.

                 Instead, against the anger he wished he could conjure, the anger that armored him against the past… he let Jack tug that thread once more. No, it wasn’t Jack this time. He was unravelling it himself.

                 “Try to _relax_ ,” Reaper whispered, slipping an arm around him, easing behind him so the man could rest back against his chest. Jack was struggling to take his first sip of the maligned soul. His teeth clanked against the bitter metal Reaper knew all too well.

                 “I’m trying,” Jack managed, his voice rasped from the caustic bile. Reaper watched as he almost brought the cannister to his lips, before getting another whiff and gagging on the smell.

                 “It gets _easier_ ,” Reaper whispered, but Jack just turned and collapsed against his chest, his hands curling into the belts and his dark leather jacket. He buried his face into his neck and clenched against the pain of his hunger. Reaper pushed back his hair and rested a hand on the back of his head and neck.

                 “You always were a shit liar,” Jack murmured. “It was never easy loving you.”

                 Reaper exhaled a deep sigh that ended in a growl. “You weren’t a peach pie _either_ ,” he breathed.

                 “How dare you take peach pies’ name in vain,” Jack choked out. “God, I wish I could eat a peach pie right now.”

                 “Drink it, and I’ll make it _happen_ ,” Reaper breathed. “There’s no backing out _now_.”

                 Reaper watched as Jack sat up, the dark circles under his eyes making him look older than he was. Frail and vulnerable. Easy prey to the Ghost. Now he was simply a man, just as unraveled as Reaper was, and that unraveled man took the cannister and lifted it to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed gulps of viscous liquid, his revolt clear as his body jerked against the taste. But then, he relaxed, and Reaper knew the hunger was waning. He gazed upon the bloated belly of his once-friend, wrapped tightly in the undershirt and cradled between the two parts of his half-unzipped jacket. He could see the dent of his belly button, and the ripples of the fabric hiking up with every haggard gasp.

                 Reaper couldn’t help but drink Jack in as he drank in another. He knew there was nothing so intoxicating as consuming a soul, even if one so foul would prove too much to handle for him later.

                 Jack didn’t stop until the cannister was tilted so far upward, contents dripped down the corner of his mouth. He gasped and straightened, panting to catch his breath. Reaper took an index finger and wiped off the black sludgy drip before pressing it to Jack’s lips. Without hesitation Jack lapped the remainder from his finger. Reaper heard the harsh gurgle of digestion, and Jack shed his jacket and put a hand on his bloated stomach, rubbing it for relief.

                 “That wasn’t so bad,” Jack breathed. “Is it over?”

                 Reaper studied him, wanting to tell him yes, but he knew the answer was a resounding no. He didn’t want to tell him yet. Instead, he reached a clawed hand up and peeled off his mask and pushed back his hood, revealing his warping face. The way Jack looked at him, he nearly melted at the sight, smiling. Pure and in love. Damn his smile.

                 Reaper extended a hand to his cheek, taking in those lovely blue eyes with his own dark red hungry orbs. The weight of his head in his hand sent shivers through his body, and he felt himself melting – the gauntlets withered away, exposing the skin of his hand, and Jack lifted his hand to rest on his. Smoke evaporated all around him, peeling at the layers of his clothing, and Jack’s wry enveloped his face willed him naked. Jack himself pulled back and removed his jacket and shirt, revealing his bare chest and round belly, before unclasping and stripping his own belt. Greedy hands grabbed for Reaper’s muscled neck and shoulders and pulled him into a strong kiss. Jack pulled back and looked his naked body over. He snorted.

                 “I saw the real you,” he began. “You’re not all abs anymore.”

                 “I can _be_ …” Reaper said, though Jack’s harsh laugh caught him by surprise.

                 “I want to see you, as you are now. Don’t hide that from me.”

                 Reaper growled, feeling his chest tighten. He understood Jack no more than Jack understood him. Yet, here they were. With a slow ripple of purplish smoke, the illusion melted, revealing Gabe’s large form hovering over Jack. Overfed and overweight, with soft shoulders and a large imposing stomach that gravity tugged at fondly. Jack was nearly dwarfed under him, but lovely fingers danced along his arms and down his sides, grabbing at the large soft folds of his skin.

                 “I’m happy to know you’ve been taking care of yourself,” Jack said, as if it meant to be teasing, except it didn’t sound anything but sincere. Reaper dipped carefully to brush his lips against Jack’s, wondering in what world he deserved this, or in what world Jack deserved him.

                 “You _haven’t been_ ,” Reaper breathed his observation of Jack. “But let _me…._ ”

 

                 “Woah! Okay,” Jesse said, putting his fingers in his ears. “I don’t need to know that next part la-la-la please don’t tell me about the old man sex. Please.”

                 Reaper snorted. “I wasn’t going _to_.”

                 “So ya’ll fucked in the cabin, what happened next?” Jesse asked, trying to physically shake the image out of his head.

 

                 Jack huddled close to the thick body as the storm assaulted the cabin. He was still out of breath from their torrid lovemaking, an effort that felt effortless, yet left him wholly exhausted. The rumbling in his stomach drowned out the wind wracking the old structure and he released a soft moan.

                 “You’ll need _more_ ,” Reaper said. “More before the curse I gave you _wears off_.”

                 “You ever done this before?”

                 “ _Yes_ ,” Reaper breathed. “ _Once_ I gave this hunger to someone _else_. Moira—”

                 “So, she _is_ with Talon.”

                 “She takes care of _me_.”

                 “She doesn’t take care of anyone, you know that Gabriel.”

                 “She lets me _eat_. She taught me _how_. She captures them for _me_. She… _feeds me_.”

                 “She’s holding you prisoner,” Jack said.

                 “ _Jealous_?” Reaper hissed out, and Jack felt a pang of hurt, because that was too close to the truth than he wanted to admit. He didn’t want to, but he had to.

                 “Yes,” Jack sat up. “She made you like this and it should have been me helping you. The way you’re helping me now. Let me help you. God dammit! Eat my soul if it’ll help! It’ll probably last you some time!”

                 “Not as long as you _think_ ,” Reaper hissed.

                 Jack growled, knowing what that meant. He crawled out of bed, the cold cabin biting him now that he was just wearing his underwear. He scooped up the cannister they had carelessly dropped on the floor. It was heavier than he remembered.

                 “Fill it up,” Jack ordered.

                 “It already _is_ ,” Reaper breathed. “It is connected to a repository, though that font is filled with the maligned and not the _complaisant_.”

                 “Good, then I’m going to swallow every fucking one,” Jack said defiantly, opening the container. Before he could take a sip, Reaper was there, stopping his hand. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a forceful one.

                 “That anger will make it _worse_. We can do this _together_ ,” Reaper whispered.

                 “Just you and me?” Jack asked gently. He allowed himself to be guided back into bed, and under the covers. It was too cold to relax anywhere else. Jack felt Reaper’s weight push into him as he leaned over him, propping the pillows so Jack could sit up. He gently held the cannister and tipped it, and Jack took another sharp sip.

                 Reaper was right. It did get easier. And this time, he swore he felt the soul he was swallowing slither down his throat, the memories gliding down like a malaise that mingled with himself in a way he found simultaneously terrifying and attractive. He could hardly describe it, but since Reaper had confirmed his fears, that perhaps his own soul belonged in _this_ container, it was like a weight had lifted from him. The pressure was off. He didn’t need to worry about being the hero anymore. Reaper was in this pit with him, and he couldn’t imagine being in here alone. Jack knew Reaper had been for so long, but no longer.

                 Jack offered the container to Reaper, and he took it and tossed back harsh gulps. Jack slipped a hand to his lover’s gut, feeling the warmth settle beneath his skin, comforted by it. He dipped down and pressed his face into it, letting the warmth spread to his raw and frostbitten cheeks. He delighted at the chuckle he heard, knowing that it was Gabriel’s honey delight and not Reaper’s harsh cackle. Gabriel lifted the container to Jack’s lips and he drank from his, feeling his belly expand. Every movement he made sloshed the contents around and as he curled into Gabe, he felt his stomach press against his deeper and deeper. But the warmth inside made him continue to drink. Gabriel moved his hand to his plumping stomach, a sensation he was learning to adore. He watched as his lover’s hands gently rubbed the growing mound, especially as it began to turn sour.

                 “I think I ate too many of ‘em,” Jack murmured. He looked to Gabriel as he pulled back, and suddenly his form shifted and disappeared, only to reappear fully clothed and muscular again. “Where are you going?”

                 “I have a mission to _complete_ ,” Gabriel breathed. “I’m sorry _Jack_. This was the better way to do things, and I tried to _warn you_.”

                 “Gabriel, don’t, whatever you’re planning! This can’t be…this can’t be what I think it—Aggrgh!”

                 Jack doubled forward and grabbed his stomach, panting through the large gurgling pain. He heaved and leaned over the bed, vomiting black bile onto the floor. He panted and looked up in horror. “Gabe!”

                 Except Gabe wasn’t there. He saw himself instead, that Soldier 76 uniform emulated perfectly. “It will wear off in a week or so. Try to get some rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

                 “Gabriel!” Jack managed. “Don’t...don’t do this.”  

                  _The things we endure for the people we love...._

 

                 “You son of a bitch,” Jesse snapped, pushing Reaper away from him. “You stuffed him to get him out of the picture? Wait – hold the fuck up. Jack if you knew the clone of you was Reaper, why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell us any of this?”

                 “Isn’t it _obvious_?” Reaper breathed. “He was being an _idiot_.”

                 “Maybe I was just buying time to get to you myself,” Jack said, carefully lowering his rifle. “Because if there is anything I know for certain, is that I might belong in that lot of shitty souls, but you sure as fucking don’t. You’re better than this. And you’re going to help us.”


	22. Diners, Dear Friends, and Good Omens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to We Grow Fonder ~ enjoy ~  
> The epilogue, credits, and notes are included in the next chapter

            Jesse wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this. Jack had gone back to the cabin looking for something, and he found it. How quickly he could have been slaughtered, and their strange rendezvous left a bad taste in his mouth. There was no way he was going to trust Reaper now, not after everything he had done – not after he took Jack’s place, not after he had kidnapped Reinhardt, Lena, and Lúcio, not after their plane was shot down, and certainly not after he had nearly killed Mad.

            But now? He wasn’t sure he trusted Jack either. The man that had lied to them about _everything_ that had happened. His detention, his escape, the fact that he held up a diner at gunpoint, that the black puke was soul-vomit, and especially that he had fucked the enemy. Jack could have at least told them that Reaper was Jack’s ‘clone’. But it was clear he wanted to protect the Reaper. Would Jesse do the same for Hanzo? Send his friends on a wild goose chase to buy time to save him? He wasn’t sure, but it pricked his good sense like a thirsty mosquito.

            Jesse nonetheless followed Jack and Reaper through the tunnels, the slope curving downward dramatically as they pushed deeper and deeper into the mine. The descent was starting to make his knees ache, and his heavy gut bounced with every hard and heavy footfall he forced down into the dirt to keep his balance. He wasn’t spry anymore and trying to keep up with the two super soldiers without acting completely out of breath was not going to be easy.

            “Seems you still have the weight, _Jack_ ,” Reaper said ahead of Jesse, though it was clear he was trying to be discreet. Jack looked down at the slight curve in his belly and Jesse snorted.

            “He did eat half a cake with me a few days ago,” Jesse said, trying to keep the bite and angst out of his tone.

            “I was hungry. I hadn’t had a real meal in a week. Let’s just focus on getting to the others, all right?”

            Jesse forced back a smile that wanted to escape him, reminding himself that now was probably not the time to be laughing. Still, there was something about the two of them together that inspired him, even if he wanted to hate them for their jackassery.

            That smile disappeared as suddenly, Jesse realized where they were going, and his fears were confirmed once they entered a massive cavern. The cavernous area was expansive, peppered with strange deep holes in the ground. The ceiling was probably one hundred feet high, and stalactites, stalagmites, and columns decorated from the ceiling to the floor.

            “Shit, they’re in the Pits,” he murmured. “Never been here before, but Mad told me about them. Giant holes filled with liquid clay. They used to shove people down there for punishment. They could get stuck and die in there too. Please tell me they’re not in the Pits.”

            “You want me to _lie_?” Reaper asked.

            “Shit,” Jesse said. “Which one’s are they in?”

            Jesse pushed forward and started to peek down large knotted holes in the ground. Some weren’t more than ten feet deep, some where fifty or more. Finally, he looked down one and saw Tracer. She was in a deeper one and had found a space on a rock out of the clay to rest.

            “Lena!”

            She immediately looked up. “Jesse!”

            “Hang on! I’m going to get you out of there!”

            Just then, a plume of purple smoke appeared behind her, and Reaper lifted her into his arms, before disappearing and reappearing next to Jesse. Lena, still in her uniform and covered in half dried clay leaped into Jesse’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck.

            “You came to the rescue! I knew you would!” she said, before turning around and tackling Reaper in a hug too. He stumbled back and growled, keeping his arms away from her. “I knew you would too Gabriel! Jack!” She turned to him and zipped over, before stopping to laugh. “What’s that on your forehead?!”

            Jack shouldered his rifle and pulled her into a side hug, the most he was willing to do.

            “Nothin’ to comment about. Glad to see you’re all right, kid. Where’s Reinhardt, Lúcio?”

            “Reinhardt should be over here!” Lena said, zipping to a pit that was two over from hers. Jesse could hear Reinhardt’s dry and boisterous voice from a mile away, let alone being echoed upward from a giant pit.

            “I’M DOWN HERE!”

            Jesse pushed to the pit’s edge to see that Reinhardt wasn’t so lucky. He was waist deep in the clay, and he seemed haggard and worn, a blood caked wound on his upper arm. At least he was out of his armor – he would have sunk into the clay if he had worn it.

            “We’re gunna find a way to get ya outta there Rein! Don’t worry!” Jesse called down, before turning to Reaper. “Don’t suppose you could get him out of there too. We’re going to need a rope or a ladder otherwise.”

            “I _cannot_ ,” Reaper confessed.

            “Maybe I can find something,” Jack said.

            “Jesse, Jesse there is something you have to know,” Lena said, interrupting him. “They took Lúcio. That was a day ago. He hasn’t returned.”

            Jesse turned to her and his heart sunk. She looked exhausted, worn, and defeated. He thought spending four days in the desert was bad, he couldn’t imagine spending longer in a pit. He felt terrible for taking so long to get there. He reached forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll set to findin’ him, don’t you worry. Stay here with Jack, all right? Mercy, Sym, Genji, Mei, and D.va are also on their way. We’re gunna blow out of this place right quick.”

            “That is good to know,” Lena said.

            Jesse turned around pushed back toward the tunnel leading back to the labs. Jack was quick to stop him.

            “You’re not going back there alone,” he grumbled.

            “You can’t leave Lena and Rein alone with Reaper either,” Jesse retorted. “I’ll be dandy. You stay safe.”

            Jack couldn’t argue, giving him a simple nod.

 

            That had certainly escalated, and that was not what Hanzo hoped for. He was dealing with an unknown combatant, Moira, and one he was regrettably quite familiar with. After refusing to cooperate, Moira decided that Hanzo was more use to her as a subject for her experiments. Of course, Hanzo was not going to be detained quietly, and their chase had led them to an old section of the mine where metal scaffolding, walkways, and levy systems had been embedded into a shallow, yet haunting chasm. At least it would provide him with the necessary cover to hide from Widowmaker’s sights.

            Hanzo flinched as a sniper shot pierced through the old metal rail guard he had crouched down behind, and he couldn’t restrain a small yelp escaping him. He could hear her distant whisper from afar, taunting him to move. He had to. Hanzo stood and sprinted to the edge of the walkway, leaping onto the railing and down onto another walkway below. He saw a dark purple orb follow him, and it pulled at his life the closer it got. Hanzo ducked behind a few old crates, panting, sweating, regretting being left behind to deal with this alone. He had clicked a distress signal on his comm, but that was near fourteen minutes ago. He wasn’t sure anyone had gotten the signal buried deep in these mines. He heard a soft _whoosh_ sound, followed by delicate footsteps.

            “You cannot have gone far, Hanzo,” Moira said, her voice closer than he wanted to hear it. Hanzo huffed and held his breath, before listening to her footsteps grow ever near. He needed to act. To do something. He needed the element of surprise. He wrapped his bow around his shoulder and inhaled deeply before bursting out from behind cover and grabbing Moira from behind, a blade to her throat. A sniper shot fired behind them, perhaps adjusted to miss at the last second.

            Moira hadn’t even made a gasp. “You know Widow can easily kill you with a well-placed shot,” she said.

            “There is but one problem with that hypothesis.”

            “Oh? And what is that, Shimada?”

            “She knows I am too valuable alive. Otherwise, she would have killed me years ago.”

            Moira released a soft and deep chuckle. “Clever deduction. A true shame you refuse to join us. Though, I’m sure that if we somehow convinced the outlaw, you would no doubt follow closely,” Moira said, making a signal to Widow somewhere in the chasm. She easily drifted out of Hanzo’s arms, turned to him, and smirked. “Should be easy enough.”

            Hanzo drew his bow quickly, as he suddenly felt a healing beam on him and heard the soft heel clicks of Mercy landing behind him. He watched as Widowmaker was being pushed out from behind cover, her rifle confiscated by Mei and her life in the hands of his brother’s blade. D.va flew her mech to pose on a walkway above them, and Symmetra held her device at Moira’s back.

            “You have a strange definition of easy,” Hanzo said, lifting his chin with the perfect dash of smugness.

 

            Jesse returned to the labs and was panicked to find that it was empty. Mad was gone, Hanzo and Moira were gone too. Where could Lúcio be? He rushed to a nearby computer console and tapped on it. She hadn’t locked it! Lucky him, he could access her notes. He clicked a recent file. As soon as he accessed it, however, the screen went blank, and Jesse pulled back and checked the cord.

            “Ah ah, not so fast, _guapo_.”

            Jesse blinked and looked to the screen, seeing a woman with a skull painted on her face and pink punkish hair. She had gorgeous large bright eyes, though they had a bit of sharpness to them. He heard some sort of dull beat of music in the background, and she was completely surrounded with computer screens and empty energy drink cans.

            “Who the hell are you?” Jesse asked, peering at the screen.

            “Let’s just say I’m not a friend but I’m not an enemy either,” she smirked. “Let me guess, Talon’s new operation is about to go belly up?”

            Jesse snorted. “Yeah, Overwatch is here cleanin’ up the mess.”

            She rolled her eyes and leaned back. “Well, I’ve been told to clear the files if anyone else tried to access them, _guapo_.”

            “Look frienemy, I just gotta fine my pal Lúcio. Everythin’ else means shit to me. Delete it all but I gotta find him.”

            “Lúcio? The Lúcio Correia dos Santos? Why didn’t you say so, _amigo-enimigo_?! They better not have hurt that precious _hombre_. He is not far. There should be a door in the back of the laboratories. I just opened it for you.”

            Jesse smiled, watching her type on one of the computers by her. “What’s your name?”

            “We’ll be in touch,” she winked, popping a piece of bubble gum. “Boop!”

            Then the screen went blank.

            Jesse inflated his chest and pushed to the back of the room, finding the sealed metal door and prying it open. This had to be it. As he pushed inside, his heart sank, seeing Lúcio laying on a medical bed, his legs thin and bowed unnaturally. It didn’t look like Moira had done anything to him yet, but his skates had been pried off and destroyed, laying in a pile on the floor. Jesse pushed over to him and checked his vitals, before unhooking him from the IVs and lifting him into his large arms. He seemed half conscious and out of it, his head falling back and releasing a soft moan.

            “You’re safe with me now, it’ll be all right.”

            As he stepped out of the room, he frowned, met with a dozen or so Deadlock gang members, and Mad standing in the middle, if not a bit meekly.

            “You can say that again,” Mad said. “Count the Deadlock gang as officially dicked out. Talon can go fuck themselves from now on, but you’ve got a half hour before we start itching to kill you Overwatch fucks too.”

            Jesse sighed in relief, well, as much relief as he could muster, since he knew Mad wasn’t joking about that half hour leeway. “Thanks Mad.”

 

            Jack, Lena, and Reaper pulled at the rope to help Reinhardt out of the pit. Jack caught the large man as he stumbled forward weakly, panting, and out of steam. He checked the wound on his arm, clear it was made by the gauntleted claws of his lover. Rein hadn’t gone down easy. None of them had.

            “You’ll be okay,” Jack said. He pulled out his comm. “Morrison to Team, do you read? Anyone read?”

            “ _Jack, this is Mercy. We’ve detained Moira and Widowmaker. Hanzo is leading us to the labs. What is your status? Did you find the others?_ ”

            “Yeah, Lena and Reinhardt, Jesse is out to find Lúcio. We’ll meet up at the labs,” Jack said. “Good work.”

            He stood up and helped, Reinhardt to his feet, though the man towered over him. Jack pried off his mask to take a breath, but also to give Gabriel a quick smile.

            “We couldn’t have done this without you, Gabe. Well, technically we wouldn’t had had to if you didn’t kidnap them in the first place but thanks for changing your mind.”

            Reaper however, stood stiffly. He clenched his fists and took a step back. “Jack, I’m… _sorry_. You know what I _have to do_.”

            Jack studied him, feeling dread set into his chest. “Don’t. You can join us. You know you can, you’re half-way there already.”

            “Make this easy _for me_. I don’t want to _hurt them_.”

            Jack’s expression turned hard, before he grabbed his comm again. “Mercy?”

            “ _Jack_?”

            “Detain Moira and Widowmaker, but we’re leaving them behind.”

            “ _Are you crazy?_ ”

            “Yeah,” Jack murmured. “Just do it. We’ll bring them down another day. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

            Jack looked to Reaper, who gave him a subtle nod. He closed his eyes, knowing that when he opened them Gabriel would no longer be there. His heart hurt. His hopes had been high. But in the end, he knew this was how it had to be. He only hoped that it didn’t have to be like this forever. He finally looked to Lena and inhaled sharply, feeling the heat behind his eyes. She moved to him and Reinhardt put a hand on his back.

           

            Jesse took a bite of his burger in his favorite diner, having stayed behind in New Mexico for an extra day. Hanzo had agreed to return for him after the battle worn and injured team made it back to Watchpoint: Moosonee. He needed the extra day to say goodbye to a good friend.

            “You sure can pack it in now,” Mad said, resting back and playing with his napkin.

            “Yeah,” Jesse smirked. “I used to think you eating two whole burger meals was a feat.”

            “Hey now, it was good for back then,” Mad smirked.

            Jesse chewed and nodded, letting the silence settle between them. That kept happening during this lunch. The silence settling. Neither of them wanting to say what needed to be said. It was bitter sweet. Mad was recovering from a pulse rifle round, but Reaper had made sure Talon left the Deadlock gang with a pool full of cash, and Mad made sure they had a nonnegotiable understanding that they would get fucked if they returned.

            “You could retire,” Jesse managed. “Overwatch would be happy to have you.”

            “Kid, you’re smart, but that heart is going to get you killed.”

            “My heart is why you saved me,” he whispered.

            “Cause, I knew it’d get you killed.”

            “You don’t have to act tough anymore, Mad,” Jesse said. “I know you got one too.”

            Mad softened and sighed, pushing his empty basket aside to put his folded hands on the table. He took a staggered breath.

            “If I had to do it all again? I just wish that the man I gave you ti had kept his damn word. I don’t know what happened, or why, but he hurt my Jesse McCree, and he’s still out there. If I run into him again I’m going to rip his spine out with my bare hands and shove it back up his ass backwards.”

            Jesse smiled and let his brow curl at the hyperbole. He couldn’t help but almost laugh. Almost.

            “Gabriel’s lost, but he helped us. He’ll find his way.”

            “You sure did,” Mad said, leaning back again.

            Jesse inspected his burger, not feeling the need to take the extra bite, not without Hanzo here, and he already missed him. He placed the burger down and looked outside the diner window, resting his cheek on a propped-up fist. He smiled a little, watching as a familiar looking roadrunner paced outside, leaping up to catch a stray fly and puff up her feathers.

            “You know what’s out here?” Jesse asked softly, before looking to Mad.

            “For once, I don’t,” Mad admitted. “I have a feelin’ you do.”

            Jesse gave him a soft nod, reaching over to put a hand on Mad’s dry and dark-skinned forearm.

            “Diners, dear friends, and good omens.”


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the Epilogue, everyone! thanks for reading.   
> If you want to join us at a friendly discord, please join us at FluffWatch, a server for fluffy chubby overwatch characters! https://discord.gg/jUaXZz

            “Happy Birthday Dear Jack! Happy Birthday to you!”

            Applause erupted, and Jack leaned forward to blow out the candles. Everyone clapped and cheered.

            “Can I take this damn thing off now?” Jack said, grabbing the birthday hat from his head and crushing it, before tossing it at Jesse’s face. Jesse laughed and caught it before fixing it and putting it on himself.

            “So, February 22nd is your real birthday,” Jesse said. “Everyone got that?! Jack’s birthday is on February 22nd!”  

            Jack enjoyed everyone’s laughter. It helped that it had been a couple months since the dubbed “Deadlock Incident”, and everyone had healed from their wounds and the trauma that horrible week (or in Jack’s case, three weeks) had brought them. Though the memories weren’t all bad. Some memories were kept close to his heart. Others were the reason he was having trouble sleeping at night.

            “Yeah, glad someone got it right,” Jack smirked, standing up and showing off a growing gut cradled tight inside of an athletic shirt. He worked out just the same, but he was taking it easier, and also enjoying himself for the first time in forty years. It was starting to show in an obvious way, and the only one that ever said anything about it was Jesse, and Jesse was always nice to him. He should be, seeing how the kid was starting to get wide as well as distended.

            Jack cut himself a generous slice, licking his fingers of the frosting, before dishing out the other pieces. He smiled and passed out his share of wise cracks and grumpy retorts, before walking a bit out of the way to eat his cake. To his surprise, Hanzo sought him out.

            “You are looking well,” he said easily.

            “Yeah, I know. I’m turning into Jesse,” he smirked.

            “You could only wish,” Hanzo said, turning his head to smile and wave at his boyfriend.

            “How do you two do it?”

            “Do what? Gain weight?”

            “No, just,” Jack laughed. “Happy. The happy thing.”

            He tried to look away as Hanzo studied him silently for a long moment. He was embarrassed he had to ask that question, and of Hanzo, a man he barely knew, though…they were starting to become good friends.

            “I told you once to never fear what you want,” Hanzo said. “I mean it. The shame you may feel is an anchor to the past. Lift it and be who you want to be. Be _with_ who you want to be, the way you both want to be together. It is clear you are already heeding my advice in part?”

            Jack looked down to his gut, maybe the size of a small cantaloupe now, and Hanzo had clearly gestured at it. He put a hand on it and jiggled it up and down with a chuckle before looking to Hanzo. The archer was wearing something casual, something that didn’t quite hide his own gain all that well either.

            “Yeah, well,” Jack chuckled. “We’re all chubby now.”

 

            Jesse watched Hanzo talk to Jack as he ate his cake, watching the timid smile on the man’s face. The three of them were getting along better than they had ever before, and while Jack mostly kept to himself, sometimes he’d sneak down into the kitchen to join Jesse in a midnight snack. Hanzo didn’t need to know about the casserole they polished off together last night, swapping stories and recipes. Sometimes it was nice to be in the company of a friend who liked to eat as much as Jesse did and as often too.

            He turned his attention to Genji as he heard a charming light laugh escape him. He was talking to Mei, and he could hear their conversation from a bit away and decided to eavesdrop.

            “Well, I ask because I was wondering if you needed help with restoring the systems. I am a cyborg so cold does not affect me like the others. In fact, I make a nice space heater.”

            “Oh well,” Mei giggled a little. “Sorry I didn’t know that’s what you meant when you asked if I was warm enough working at Ecopoint.”

            Genji laughed again, shifting a bit nervously and Mei was doing the same. Cute.

            “I suppose that was worded strangely.”

            “But I would love your help, Genji. No one else has offered and I leave in a couple weeks.”

            “Ah, then I will make sure everything is in order,” he said. “Perhaps… we can discuss the details over dinner tomorrow night?”

            Jesse grinned and looked away. _CUTE._

            He listened to Mei scramble to say yes, and the couple awkwardly resumed a more benign topic of conversation. He jumped a little as he felt hands slide to his stomach and shoulder, and Hanzo was there to give him a peck on his cheek. Jesse looked over and grinned.

            “Don’t fill up on cake,” Hanzo whispered. “I got us something special to share tonight.”

            “Oh?”

            “Mm… Rocky Road. Two gallons.”

            “Whoof, ya playing with fire, Hanzo. Or would that be ice?”

            “Hopefully I’ll be playing with _McCree_.”

            “I like the sound of that.”

 

            _299, 300, 299, 300, 299, 299, **300**_.

            _Beep beep beep!_

            Jesse blinked as he stared at the scale or tried to over his large bare belly. He put his hands on his stomach and flushed in surprise. “Hey Hanzo!”

            He’d just gone into the bathroom to take a shower and freshen up before they got into the show of it that night, and thought it would be a good spontaneous idea to weigh himself. Though that meant he _had_ left Hanzo alone with the Rocky Road, and he could hear the spoon clanking against his teeth in the other room.

            “What is it, Jesse?”

            “You wanna take a look?”                 

            He waited for Hanzo to pad into the bathroom, wearing his _hakama_ only. Hanzo had gained some curves himself and a plump tummy, and not many of his pants were fitting anymore. It seemed like he was mostly putting it on in his thighs and ass and was still in firm denial of it, making one hundred and one excuses as to why. Jesse sure loved the look of him now, though. Hanzo’s eyes trailed over Jesse’s near naked form before they snapped to the number on the scale.

            “Three hundred?”

            “Three-zero-zero.”

            “My word!”

            “Yeah,” Jesse laughed. “I’m floored.”

            “We should celebrate!”

            “How about we get you on this thing first?” Jesse grinned wide.

            Hanzo sneered. “There is nothing new the scale would tell me. I have always been one seventy-seven.” He shrugged, pretending to be aloof.

            Jesse grinned and narrowed his eyes before rushing over and scooping Hanzo up. His boyfriend gave him a yelp and wriggled in his arms, before Jesse stepped back on the scale.

            “Let me down!”

            “Five hundred and six pounds! Hanzo you weigh two-oh-six!”

            “That is not true!”

            “That’s almost thirty pounds you gained with me,” Jesse grinned.  

            Hanzo huffed and gave up the struggle, because Jesse wasn’t going to let up and he knew it. Instead, Jesse pulled his boyfriend into a deep kiss, forcing him to calm down enough to enjoy it as he cradled him in his arms.

            “I love you Hanzo.”

            Hanzo, still a bit flustered, reached into his pants pocket and squirmed out of his arms to grab his hand. With a swift and deliberate motion, he slipped a ring on to Jesse’s finger. Jesse blinked a bit and looked at the gorgeous silver and gold band with the sapphire inlaid into it. His eyes darted to Hanzo’s grin as the archer wrapped his arms around his rotund waist.

            “Uh… Hanzo, what is this?”

            “An engagement ring,” Hanzo said with a shrug.

            “You—did you just ask me to marry ya?”

            “I didn’t ask anything yet, but, yes. Will you marry me, Jesse McCree?”

            “You’re askin’ me to marry ya while I’m standin’ on a _bathroom scale_?”

            “Is it not romantic enough?” Hanzo teased him, pretending to show concern.

            “Romantic, no. Perfect? Well…” Jesse looked at the ring. “ _Yeah_.”

            “Is that a ‘yes, I will marry you’?”

            “Yes!” Jesse laughed, overcome with bubbling joy. “I will marry you, Hanzo Shimada!”

            Jesse picked Hanzo up again and pushed into a deep kiss, feeling his heart swell up a thousand times over. He couldn’t have imagined a more perfect way to celebrate the big three-hundred.

 

            Jack groaned, pushing into his small room and peeling off his shirt. He had eaten too much birthday cake, that was for certain. He looked down at his bloated stomach and grumbled something to himself before changing into a nightshirt and some loose boxers. It was late. He was exhausted. He should go to bed and sleep off the sugar—strange.

            There was a square white box on his bed, wrapped neatly with a pink ribbon. Jack approached the box carefully and cocked his head, searching for a card – maybe someone had gotten him a birthday gift and didn’t want to give it to him in person? Still, no one had access to his room but him….

            Jack carefully tugged at the ribbon and opened the box, his eyes tearing up instantly as he saw a gorgeous peach pie, a fork resting over it and still warm to the touch, resting inside. Jack put a hand over his mouth and his other on his hip, taking in a sharp breath before carefully lifting the pie out of the box. He shook his head as he saw something even more surprising.

            Gabriel’s journals. A small note was taped to the cover.

            _You should read them. – G_

            Jack shook his head to himself, and placed the pie on the bed, before climbing under the covers. He took the fork and dipped it into the pie, enjoying a savory bite, before grabbing a journal. Delicate fingers uncurled the twine and peeled it open to the first page.

 

_Souls on Twine_

_Our souls in kind on twine between us._

_Love undescribed, but there to guide,_

_The way we feel about the other side._

_We do what we must._

_We belong where we fall._

_But the twine between us_

_will never stall._

 

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give a special thank you at Discord for all their encouragement and support.  
> Thank you so much to:
> 
> Cad:76 for your beta reading and constant brainstorming and support -> https://tenoutaten.tumblr.com/  
> Chips for your Gabriel expertise and your help fleshing out some of the very important Reaper/Soul lore that was included in this story. -> https://chips-chubs.tumblr.com/  
> Corgi for all your comments and brainstorming support, and for totally guessing that Reaps was Clone-Jack like super early on and it made me happy XD -> http://premature-assassination.tumblr.com/
> 
> Special thanks to ALL the Discord people who have commented, encouraged, made fanart, and have enjoyed my story.  
> Llaloffeia  
> Moxiebox  
> Squid  
> Red  
> Ryan  
> Art History  
> and literally everyone over at discord. THANK YOU!
> 
> If you want to join us at a friendly discord, please join us at FluffWatch, a server for fluffy chubby overwatch characters! https://discord.gg/jUaXZz


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